Rehabilitation
by brandy01
Summary: Throughout her struggle to hide her addiction from the people she loves, Hermione Granger discovers that there is is more to Severus Snape than meets the eye.
1. Chapter 1: Addiction

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to AmyLouise for all of her help as my beta for this story.

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_Addiction, defined as the continued use of a mood-altering substance or behaviour despite adverse consequences._

* * *

As the clock ticked, each second a rhythmic sound in the otherwise silent room, Hermione Granger twisted and scrunched a piece of parchment in her hands. She sighed heavily and tossed the paper across the room. It bounced off the wall and, much to her surprise, fell into the bin beside the bookshelf. Nervous still, she brought her hand up to her mouth and began biting her nails. She looked at her hands and frowned at the state of them. She always bit her nails to the quick during exam periods.

Hermione flipped to the next page of her textbook before looking up at the clock. It was already three in the morning. She frowned and rubbed her eyes wearily. It was going to be a long day**,** and she hadn't even slept yet. Hauling herself out of her chair, she placed a marker in the book and closed it before moving away from her desk and out of the room. Making her way to the bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror above the sink and immediately reached for a flask filled with clear blue liquid.

She uncapped the bottle and pulled out a measuring glass, pouring out exactly 200ml. Upending the contents into her mouth, she swallowed it and put the flask back into the cupboard after screwing on the lid and sealing it. She rinsed out the measuring glass and replaced that too before closing the cupboard and her eyes and pausing for a moment to let the potion take effect. She felt a hint of sleep pulling at the back of her head and picked up her toothbrush. Once her teeth were clean, she slowly, sleepily made her way to the bedroom and peeled off her clothes.

She fell onto the bed in just her undergarments and fell asleep a few moments later.

When Hermione woke up, sunlight was already filtering through the curtains from the upmost part of the windows. Groaning and feeling like she hadn't slept at all, she rolled over and opened one eye to peer at the clock on the bedside table. It was only eight in the morning—she couldn't believe she had managed to get a whole five hours of sleep. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she had barely eaten more than a couple of pieces of toast and drunk a few cups of tea the day before.

She rolled out of bed and made her way to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove before lighting the flame beneath it. As she waited for the water to boil, she went about the motions of collecting a cup, teapot and leaves for her tea, and bread and jam to make toast for her breakfast yet again. After swallowing down the meagre offerings, she made her way up to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. When she opened the medicine cabinet to grab her brush, she eyed the flask filled with the blue liquid warily.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been able to sleep without it.

Dreamless Sleep. The first time she had ever used the drug, Poppy Pomfrey had administered a super low dosage to her after the final battle so that she could get a few hours of undisturbed sleep. The mediwitch had prescribed the dosage for her for a few weeks following that. Hermione had seen so many horrible things—such terrible atrocities she had been forced to commit so that the side of light would be allowed to prevail.

As time had gone on however, Hermione had found that the low dosage no longer did anything to prevent the horrible nightmares from returning to her every time she closed her eyes. Madam Pomfrey had refused to increase the dosage, and even cautioned her against the prolonged usage of the potion to find respite, so Hermione had resorted to learning how to make the potion on her own. She put together a rough potions lab on her kitchen table consisting of a cauldron, a Muggle Bunsen burner, and a mortar and pestle for grinding and pounding ingredients.

She had been living in the little two-bedroom flat that she had acquired for herself using the funds her Order of Merlin First Class had awarded her, following the war. It was only really big enough for her to live on her own, but that suited her just fine. She didn't want anyone living with her. It was surprising enough that nobody she knew had seemed to catch on to her problem yet as it was. She looked as though she were only hanging on by a thread on the best of days. She was surprised neither Harry nor Ron has said anything to her about it yet. And as she didn't have her parents around anymore, she didn't have them to lecture her about her health…

Sighing, she grabbed her toothbrush and began meticulously brushing. If there was one thing she would never get out of the habit of doing, it was brushing her teeth a minimum of twice a day. After she was finished with that chore, she got dressed for the day and went into the second bedroom she had converted into a study to collect her books. She gave the room a once-over but found that there was very little she could do to improve upon the tidiness.

Confident that she was ready to begin the day, she went through the motions of warding and locking her flat before heading to the fireplace in the living room and tossing some Floo powder into the grate. Green flames sprung to life and Hermione, bag over her shoulder and wand in hand, stepped into the fireplace.

'Oxford College of Magic,' she called out before she spun out of sight.

* * *

Severus Snape was an impatient man. He had placed his order for a new pair of ultra-thick dragon hide gloves three weeks prior and had discovered on his visit to the apothecary that morning that said gloves had yet to be shipped. He had left the shop in a complete strop and had stalked through Diagon Alley with an expression that warned people he was not a man to be messed with and made his way to the nearest Apparation point. From there, he Apparated straight to his home on Spinner's End.

After the war, Snape had made it a point to completely renovate his childhood home so that it was barely recognisable as being the same house. He stayed there during the summer and planned to make them as enjoyable as possible—with nothing left to remind him of his childhood or the years he spent in service as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix amongst Voldemort's ranks. '

Once inside his house, he removed his robes and hung them up inside the closet near the front door. He made his way directly downstairs to the cellar he had transformed into his summer laboratory. With a flick of his wand, the room lit up**,** and the flame beneath the single cauldron he had set up grew bright. He would often retreat to his lab and absorb himself in his work and research over the holidays when he did not have student work to mark.

He went to the storeroom and collected a few jars and flasks of ingredients that he would be working on that day. He lined them up on the bench and filled the cauldron with the preserved icy water he had collected from the lake at Hogwarts, adjusting the temperature of the flame so that his brew would only simmer slowly. Methodically, he added the ingredients for the base, chopping and pounding where needed**:** lemongrass, black pepper, green bamboo shoots, and minced ginger. He gave it all a few clockwise stirs before leaving it to stand and combine.

Healing potions had been an interest of his for many years. And after all of the years he had been forced to create potions as instruments of war for Dumbledore and Voldemort both, he was finally free to pursue his interest. Snape's new ambition was to create potions that would eradicate the effects some of his darker potions and deeds had left behind. A small 'plop' alerted him to the status of his potion, and he immediately returned his attention to it. It was bubbling away softly, and had turned a crystal-clear green from the lemongrass and bamboo shoots.

After much more research into foreign medicines, he had begun using a lot more eastern herbs and ingredients recommended in foreign Potions journals.

It was interesting, he thought, just how much people underestimated the eastern continents and**,** indeed, often forgot that witches and wizards did not live exclusively in European countries. For Snape's own part, he made it a practice to do as much research as possible before beginning each project. In his world, it was not a failure until every possible avenue had been exhausted.

Dumbledore had always encouraged Snape to learn—ever since he had been a bullied and frightened student at Hogwarts.

Snape frowned. Thinking about Albus often left a bitter taste in his mouth. The man had been all but a father to him, and in the end, even the old man had betrayed him and left him with much debt to repay the Headmaster in another life. He had forced Snape to do a great many things in his service of the Order; things that were unsavoury at best. But when he had forced Snape to watch helplessly as the Headmaster allowed Voldemort to kill him in the younger man's stead, he had crossed the line. It was just too frustrating for Snape to think about.

He was recalled from his thoughts by another small 'plop' in the bubbles forming at the top of the potion. He swiftly crushed and minced some ginseng and kaffir lime leaves before adding them to the brew as well, sprinkling them over the top of the potion so that it would dissolve into it slowly. He closed his eyes while he waited and sat on the stool to watch the progress as it unfolded before him.

He opened his eyes**,** withdrew his wand from its place up his sleeve**,** and Summoned a thick, leather-bound journal, a quill, and a pot of ink from his study upstairs. He took down his notes on the potion base so far, noting all of his steps in extreme detail**:** the order of the ingredients, the type of preparation, the temperature of the cauldron, the stirring technique—everything. He set the book aside then. This potion would be his most important to date. With it, he had hopes of curing a whole manner of brain-and memory-related problems.

This included and primarily revolved around the reversal of Frank and Alice Longbottom's vegetative states.

He sighed heavily. It was a challenge he had set for himself to give his life reason— a reason for his continued existence in the Wizarding world. Otherwise, he might have abandoned the magical world and moved somewhere far away where nobody knew who he was**,** or all of the crimes he had committed throughout his life. The potions he had planned and created were really all that he had left now that Dumbledore and Voldemort were gone, and Lily Potter was all but a shadow of a former love. Lily—now there was a thought he had not had in a very long time. He closed his eyes for a moment to remember why it was that he had held onto the memory of having been in love for so long. Nothing came to him.

He shook his head and stood, collected all of the ingredients together and began to take them back to the storeroom to put them in the correct positions. Once everything in the room was clean, he flicked his wand and the flame beneath the cauldron snuffed out. He placed the cauldron in stasis and took it over to a shelf near the sinks, storing it there until it would be needed for continuation. He went back to the bench and sat to write notes in the journal. He paused for a moment and looked around the room solemnly.

Severus Snape could not be accused of having a hero complex, but he certainly wanted to make amends for his past mistakes.

* * *

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2: Apprehension

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to AmyLouise, without whom, this story would not be posted.

* * *

_Apprehension, defined as the anticipation of adversity or misfortune; suspicion or fear of future trouble or evil._

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron was noisy and crowded during lunch that day. Hermione had to practically push her way through, making her way towards the bar to order some drinks. She had agreed to meet Harry and Ron for lunch there that day, but as it grew closer to the agreed meeting time, she had been coming to regret her affirmative response to their owl. She had just finished her exams for the term and had not been able to sleep for over 48 hours.

Her curly hair she had roughly pulled back in a heavy plait, and she was wearing her threadbare old blue student robes from the university over her jeans and blouse. The dark circles under her eyes**,** which she had hastily tried to cover with a bit of make-up and a glamour charm, were still unconvincingly prominent. She sincerely hoped that neither Harry nor Ron noticed how tired she truly was. As she reached the bar she waved at the bar-keeper**,** Tom, to signal him over. As she waited for him to serve her, she looked down at her hands to find they were trembling slightly. She forced herself to still them.

Hermione had spent the better part of the past week trying desperately to kick her Dreamless Sleep addiction. She knew that during her exams wasn't exactly an ideal time, but she figured if she could kick it while stressed, she wouldn't have to worry so much when she wasn't stressed.

The first night had been bad. She hadn't been able to get to sleep for hours and had tossed and turned in bed with the sweat beading all over her face and limbs, making the sheets stick to her and twist around her legs uncomfortably. When sleep finally did come, her nightmares had been horrible. All of them were filled with the most horrifying, bloody moments of the final battle.

She could see the blood on her hands, and saw Dumbledore fall, over and over**,** as he stood in front of a killing curse meant for another. She saw Severus Snape running towards the Headmaster to reach him before his lifeless body could meet the earth. She saw Susan Bones being stabbed in the back by a dagger that was being wielded by Bellatrix Lestrange. There had been so much blood and carnage. Too many people had perished on the battlefield that day, and in her dreams, she could see every one of them.

The second night she had held herself back from taking the Dreamless Sleep, she had dreamt the same dream after many hours of lying in bed awake, except this time she had dreamt that both Ron and Harry were dead on their backs, their eyes open but grey and lifeless. After she had awoken from that dream crying, she had been unable to go back to sleep again. She had been unable to sleep at all on the third night, and the morning after, she had gone to her final exams for the year without having had more than four hours of sleep over the course of four days.

She collected the three pints of Butterbeer from Tom, and pushed her way back through the crowds to find a place to sit. She spotted one empty booth with room enough for four people, and immediately swooped in to secure it for their lunch. She sat down eagerly to await the arrival of her two friends.

Harry and Ron had both gone on to train as Aurors, but unlike her, they would not have a summer holiday from their training as she did from College. She took a sip of her drink and sighed heavily. She had no idea what she would do over the summer. Before she could think on it any longer, however, she heard a loud 'Hermione!' over the din in the room. She looked up to see Ron's mop of red hair towering above everyone else, and then Harry, who stood almost a head shorter, tagging along beside him.

'Hermione, it's good to see you!' Rom exclaimed as he sat down across from her, giving her a warm smile. 'We never see much of you when you go into exam mode.'

'It's good to see you too, Ron, Harry,' she replied, moving over to let Harry into the seat beside her, accepting his hug around her shoulders.

'How are you, Hermione?' Harry asked, concern in his green eyes.

Hermione shrugged. 'A little tired, but now that my school year is over, I'll get a chance to catch up on some much-needed rest.'

'Harry has a point. You looked knackered, Hermione,' Ron interjected**,** with Harry nodding in agreement. 'Are you sure you've been sleeping at all? You've got big bloody dark circles under your eyes.'

'I've just been up late studying for my exams, that's all,' she replied, clutching her hands together on the table to prevent them from visibly trembling again.

'Oi, what do you study again?' Ron asked, earning himself a punch in the arm from Harry.

'Insensitive git,' Harry muttered.

Hermione shook her head and smiled at their interaction. Ron was still a bit thick sometimes. 'I study Healing Arts and Potions, you dimwit,' she answered, giving his hand a swat from across the table.

'Oi, it's not my fault! You know I hated that sort of thing at Hogwarts! Not to mention, Snape never exactly made it easy to like him or bloody Potions,' Ron argued defensively.

'I'm in agreement with Ron here**;** sorry**,** Hermione,' Harry said, looking apologetic. 'I mean, Snape's loads better than he was before we finished at Hogwarts, but he was a bloody wanker when we were still his students.'

Hermione sighed. 'He wasn't trying to be our friend in school, you know. And to be fair, if he is still a little brisk now, who could blame him? How would you be if Dumbledore had stepped in the way of a killing curse meant for either of you two?'

Harry rubbed the back of his neck but nodded in submission. 'I suppose the git ended up being good in the end,' he said.

'More than good,' Hermione pointed out. 'He helped you more times than you know, and without the power he transferred to you in the final battle, you might never have been able to defeat Voldemort so easily.'

'Fine! He's a bloody hero!' Ron cut in, knowing when to put a stop to one of Hermione's tirades before it started. 'But we aren't here to sit around talking about Snape all afternoon. We're here to eat! I'm starving!'

Hermione and Harry both laughed at this, and they quickly signalled over a waitress to take their lunch orders. A few minutes later they each had their meals sitting in front of them, and were munching on the food and chatting and reminiscing about their days at Hogwarts.

'So you only have one more year at the College, right?' Harry asked when their meals had been consumed and the plates cleared away.

'Yes, and then I will do a two-year internship at St. Mungo's to become a qualified Healer,' she answered, pleased the conversation was no longer about her appearance or Snape.

'Blimey! That's five years of studying,' Ron exclaimed. 'You're barking. Harry and I will be junior Aurors in a few months time when the training program is over.'

'Well, it might be different if I'd chosen to only study one thing, but I chose to do both Healing and Potions. I couldn't choose between the two. So I have done two years of Potions, and now I have a year of Healing Arts and the internship to go,' she replied.

'Sounds like a lot of hard work to me,' Ron said, swallowing down the last of his butterbeer before pulling out some money to pay for his food. 'Oi, I have to get going now. I told Lavender I'd drop by to see her at work before heading back to the office. It was good to see you, Hermione! Harry, I'll see you back up there?'

'Yeah, I'll see you there,' Harry answered.

Ron stopped to give Hermione a one-armed hug before pushing his way back through the thick throng of witches and wizards. When he was out of sight she turned back to look at Harry and was surprised by the serious look on his face. There was a worried look marring his otherwise youthful face.

'Alright**,** 'Mione, spill,' he said after a time.

'Whatever do you mean? I'm fine, Harry,' she said almost too quickly.

'Ron might be a little thick, but I am not as stupid as you seem to think I am sometimes,' he said seriously. 'There is something on your mind**,** and I want you to know that I am here for you if you need me.'

Hermione smiled wearily and grasped Harry's hand on the table and gave it a squeeze. She opened her mouth to speak**(****,****)** but found she was lost for words. Her hands began to tremble slightly, and she knew that all this social interaction was making her condition worse. She tried to tense her muscles to prevent the shaking, but found it only made it worse. She quickly released his hand and tried to move it away.

'Hermione, you're shaking,' Harry exclaimed in a voice barely above a whisper, grabbing for the hand she had not quite managed to hide from view.

She tried to tug her hand away again, but it seemed he was reluctant to relinquish it. 'It's nothing, Harry. I'm just tired, as I said earlier,' she hurried to reassure him. 'I promise, I just need to get some sleep.'

Harry looked unsure, but relaxed his grip on her hand and held it gently instead. 'I'm not convinced yet, but I will let it go for now,' he replied. 'But if you ever need help, I'll be here, and Luna too.'

Hermione nodded. 'And how is Luna?'

Harry smiled. Talking about his girlfriend never failed to incite some sort of goofy grin. 'She's great actually. She's been working for her dad, helping to take an enormous workload off his shoulders so he can enjoy life a little,' he answered.

Hermione smiled 'I'm happy for you. Luna is a wonderful person,' she said softly.

'What a touching moment,' a snide, familiar voice said from behind them.

Hermione immediately tugged her hand from Harry's grip and whipped her head around to find Severus Snape himself standing amidst the crowd nearest their table. Harry too, had turned his head to look over his shoulder**,** and a look of surprise crossed his face. Snape stood above everyone else in the same way Ron had earlier, looking ever-dark and brooding in his black robes, with his dark hair hanging about his face. His arms were folded across his chest and he had an expression as if somebody had put something horrid under his nose.

Hermione saw his eyes flick up to her face and then to her trembling hands. She stilled them as best she could and tried to avert her eyes.

'What a surprise to see you here, Professor,' Harry said politely in greeting.

'A surprise to see me here? Or a surprise to see me in public at all?' Snape replied somewhat sarcastically.

'I'm sure Harry didn't mean anything offensively,' Hermione said quickly. 'It's nice to see you after such a long time.'

'It has been… a couple of years, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger,' Snape acknowledged, his eyes remaining fixed on her face.

Hermione felt uncomfortable with his gaze on her so pointedly. And so, with a tug of Harry's sleeve, she gestured for him to get up so that she could make her exit. He stood and let her out of the booth, and she brushed her slightly rumpled robes out with shaking hands. She pulled out money and placed it on the table before turning to give Harry a hug, ignoring Snape's eyes on her back as she did.

'I'd best be going,' she murmured. 'It was great to see you, Harry.'

'Good to see you too, Hermione,' he replied fondly, patting her on the shoulder.

She turned to face Snape finally. 'A pleasure to see you again, Professor,' she said politely.

Snape gave a polite nod, and Hermione turned on her heel and left the pub, uncomfortably aware of Snape's continued regard of her as she made her exit.

* * *

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3: Antidote

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to AmyLouise for beta-ing this chapter for me.

* * *

_Antidote, defined as a substance that can counteract the effects of poisoning._

* * *

The room was cold, save for the flame flickering slightly just beneath the cauldron. The cellar was cold, as it was beneath ground level—the perfect place for a potions laboratory. And yet, Snape did not care a whit for the potion, or how cold or hot the temperature of the room was. His mind was far away in a different part of London. His frown creased his brow heavily.

It had been two weeks since the day he had run into Harry Potter and Hermione Granger in the Leaky Cauldron, and ever since that day, there had barely been a moment in which he had not thought of Granger and the way she had looked. He had never seen the girl so thin before—her cheekbones were far too prominent**,** and the dark circles beneath her eyes gave her a haunted look, aging her incredibly. She was tired, weak, thin, and frail. But the thing that stood out to Snape the most was the knowledge that Hermione Granger was under the influence of something.

Snape knew exactly what it was like to be addicted to one substance or another, and how could he not, after all of his long years working in potions? He was a Potions master after all. Everything was at his disposal, and he knew how to brew just about every potion that had ever been created. In his youth, Snape recalled doing a great many foolish things, the least of which had involved abusing his person with drugs on a fairly regular basis.

And to him, Miss Granger looked like she'd had a run in with a junkie and decided to try on a new lifestyle.

The only thing that was left for him to decide now was what to do with this knowledge. If he was more responsible, or perhaps even an arse-kissing Ministry lackey, he might have reported her to them. As it was, he had no love for politicians, and a moral compass that was oddly in favour of not dobbing Granger in. It was lucky for her. One word from him and she would likely be expelled from her college studies, lose her apprenticeship**,** and likely end up a patient in the mental ward at St. Mungo's.

The thing that confused him most about this situation that he now found himself in were his own motives in keeping this information to himself. He had done much thinking, and the only conclusion he was able to draw was that a part of him actually did care about what happened to the Granger girl. He was certain that it was just the residual caring a teacher usually felt towards a student they believed had promise.

Or perhaps it was something more tangible than that, and something in him felt an undeniable kinship and similarity between the two of them. Just the fact that she was an intelligent woman who had obviously made a few poor decisions in her life made him feel like there was more in common between the two of them than he would have imagined.

Sighing heavily, he sat on the stool beside his workbench and rested his head on his arms**,** propped on the table top.

All of this thinking about the girl was making him feel a responsibility for her that he knew was influenced heavily by his own life. He was unsure how to approach the situation. Perhaps telling the great Harry Potter about it and letting him deal with the girl was the best option. Snape snorted to himself. As if Potter needed another thing on his checklist to feed his seemingly insatiable ego. He certainly could not see himself approaching Ronald Weasley. The red-haired buffoon wouldn't know what to do with that information. No, Snape thought, he would not be able to rely on the Weasley boy.

He considered Minerva McGonagall for a moment. If he were to tell her this in confidence and recruit her to assist him and liaise with Granger on his behalf, he could almost see the girl getting proper help. That plan would eliminate the social interaction element of helping the girl. He shook his head. What he needed to do was find a way to help her before she destroyed herself.

The logical part of him begged him to reconsider this plan. What in Merlin's name was wrong with him? What was Granger to him anyway? She hadn't been his student in years, and he couldn't think of all that many reasons why he should still feel obligated towards her.

He could only imagine, however, the reaction of the wizarding world if anyone were to discover Granger's condition. He knew the girl was unlikely to be receptive to any help from him. If he were to help her, he would require the assistance of someone whom she trusted. From his list of possible people, however, Harry Potter was the only logical choice. He was Granger's best friend, and of the two oafs she called friend, was the more intelligent of them. He would need Potter to engage with her emotionally and offer her support, while he figured out how to ween her off her drug before extracting it from her life completely.

He huffed and put a stasis charm on his potion, having made his decision. He cleaned the workbench**,** (and) placed the cauldron on a shelf along the back of the room, then made his way upstairs to his study. Summoning a folder of records, he opened it and revealed a motley of newspaper clippings and recorded conversations.

If the sources were to be believed, Granger had had a rough time of things both during and after the war. He was not fool enough to compare her struggles with his own, but he could certainly sympathise. She had lost a great many friends, had been badly injured in the final battle, her parents**'** minds had been wiped irreversibly of all memories of her existence, and nobody, as yet, had been able to retrieve them. Not even Miss Granger herself. This information did not make him like the girl, but he could understand her plight.

'Miss Granger,' he mused out loud to himself. 'Miss Hermione Granger.'

He shook his head and looked up from the news clippings in his hand. He hated the media**,** but had still kept every relevant scrap of information he could get his hands on about the first war with the Dark Lord, his fall, his return and his eventual demise. There was over 20 years of history, all kept within a sizeable black box. He sighed heavily and placed the clippings back into the folder, and went to return it to its storage space in the box beneath his desk. Leaving the study, he began to pace up and down the hallway, going from room to room, pondering this dilemma.

His biggest problem was the idea of having to involve himself with any of her friends. Hell, if there were a way to avoid her, he probably would. It wasn't as if he had anything against Granger as an individual, but his general dislike for social interaction meant that he didn't spend all that much time out in public, or talking to other people. However, the scared, vulnerable look in Granger's eyes that day when she had noticed him staring at her prevented him from giving her up as a casualty of the war and a lost cause.

Despite everything he had already sacrificed for the wizarding world, he felt that there was still some debt to be repaid for the ill he had committed. He felt that he owed it to Dumbledore, and everything the blasted, sympathetic old man believed in. He frowned and made his way back downstairs to his laboratory to work on his potion. He needed to get Granger out of his head for a while before she drove him round the bend.

He marched in and immediately flicked his wand in the direction of the bench to light the flame, and levitated his cauldron back over to the workstation also. As his potion base set itself up on the bench, he went into the storeroom and began pulling out herbs and roots to continue his work. He returned to the bench and first began adding sesame leaves, finely shredded, to the brew, noting the colour change to a dark, forest green. Over the course of that afternoon, he split the potion into three separate cauldrons and began adding different stimulants to each of the potions.

He added gotu kola and Vietnamese mint to the first cauldron. Many eastern Asian doctors had found that gotu kola was beneficial for assisting with concentration, mental performance, and increasingly good memory storage and recollection. To the second**,** he added peppermint and ginko biloba, to restore blood flow to the brain to allow improved use of oxygen, and for clarity of the mind once the physical facilities had been restored. In the third cauldron he added brahmi to improve impaired mental capacity, and yerba mate to act as an anti-depressant and increase concentration.

Once all of the cauldrons had been stirred properly, he lowered the heat beneath all of them so that they would simmer. Labelling the cauldrons carefully, he put separate protective wards around each of them. It would be a few hours until he saw any results, and he didn't want any inter-cauldron contamination. After making his notes, he headed back up the stairs and sat down in his study once more, picking up the _Ars Alchemica_ and opening it to the last page he had been reading.

As he read the article, he felt a vague sense of familiarity in the writing style. It was an article detailing the different uses of dandelion extract and ginseng in medicinal potions, and how they were extremely beneficial. Skipping down to the bottom of the essay, he was not surprised to find that the author was none other than H. Granger. He closed his eyes and groaned. Every time he managed to stop thinking about the girl, she managed to worm her way back in shortly thereafter.

'There is no bloody escape!' he exclaimed loudly to the empty room. 'I barely even see or think about the know-it-all in over two years, and now it's like she's back with a vengeance, worming her way into everything.'

He slumped in his chair then, and after a few minutes, he acknowledged to himself how ridiculous it was even to be talking to himself as though there were some other person in the room. Tired and feeling the beginnings of a headache forming, Snape summoned a blanket from his bedroom, walked over to the chaise lounge near the empty fireplace and lay down to take a nap. He set himself an alarm to wake him before the potions needed to be attended to, and after a few minutes, the warmth of the blanket surrounding him lured him into a fitful sleep.

He dreamt of Albus and all of the people he knew who had died in place of him, watching himself wander through the dream as he came upon each of them, reaching out to him and asking him why they had died. His alarm woke him two hours later. He was slightly disgruntled from the dreams that had plagued him and all that they reminded him of—that he was alive, and people whom he considered far better than he, had perished.

He forcibly shook off the feeling and made his way down to the cellar to check on the potions. His thoughts would simply have to wait until later. Removing the protection charms around the first cauldron, he examined the contents carefully and ladled a sample into a flask to examine it. The colour had changed to an insipid chalky yellow and had a slightly thickened consistency. He was displeased with the result, and when he used his hand to waft the scent towards him, he could smell a slight hint of toothpaste.

He made a note of this in his journal and moved on to the second cauldron.

Taking down the protective spells, he repeated the process of ladling a sample and noted the continued see-through green colour of the brew with, again, a slightly minty scent. He felt that this was closer to the result he wanted, and put a stasis on the potion before levitating it to the shelf at the back of the room for storage. After repeating the process with the third, he found the colour was a dark blue, but the consistency was as liquid as the second potion had been. He kept this potion also, making notes in his journal in his neat but spikey hand, and began to clear away the contents of the first cauldron.

He rolled up his sleeves to keep them dry and grabbed a bristly brush to begin manually scrubbing the cauldron clean. As he scrubbed, the rest of the room magically set itself to rights with a quick, unspoken organisation spell from Snape, and he allowed his thoughts to wander once more. It returned immediately to the issue that was Hermione Granger. He knew his main objection to helping her revolved around her friends being something of a 'part and parcel' of the deal. If Potter and Weasley had not been the banes of his very existence for several years at Hogwarts, he would have significantly less to object to.

Stepping back from the sink, he cast a drying spell on the cauldron and returned it to its regular storage shelf.

Once everything was clean and tidy in the lab, he went upstairs to his study, and before he could give himself another chance to think or change his mind, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder from a jar on the mantle, and tossed it into the empty grate. Green flames sprang up from the logs resting in the clean fireplace, and he watched as the flames licked at the wood but did not burn it.

Kneeling down on the ground before it, he took a deep breath before plunging his head into the flames and making a call.

* * *

To be continued.


	4. Chapter 4: Allusion

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Thanks to AmyLouise for beta-ing this chapter for me.

* * *

_Allusion, defined as a figure of speech that makes reference to, or presentation of people, places, events, literary work, myths, or works of art, either directly or by implication._

* * *

The Aurors' office was quiet that afternoon, with nary a noise save for the scratching of quill against parchment. That afternoon, rather than practical exercises and fieldwork, the training for the new Aurors consisted of a theory unit. In keeping with the tradition of most who joined the training program, Harry Potter did _not_ like to study theory, and rather preferred the practical application of his knowledge of Defence against the Dark Arts. However, as with most occupations, he knew there would be a time when he would be forced to submit to tedious essays and Ministry**-**mandated paperwork.

He looked up from his work to look around the room for a moment, spotting Ron a few desks away. His head was down, but he appeared to be picking at his nails rather than doing any actual work. Harry knew Ron hated theory work even more than he did. He glanced around further and saw that most of everyone else was busy focussing on their own work. Resigned, he turned his focus back to his own essay, resolved to finish it as soon as possible**,** so that he could submit it and leave for the day.

Head down, he flipped through his textbook and finally came upon the page he was searching for.

With a sigh**,** and a slight frown marring his brow, he picked up his quill and pulled a blank sheet of parchment towards him and began to write. Two hours passed before he finally put down his quill and stretched out his cramped fingers. Satisfied that it was unlikely to get any better than that, Harry rolled up the essay and packed his things up for the day. He stopped at the supervisor's desk on the way out and submitted his work. He paused briefly at the exit and looked over to where Ron was still struggling away with his essay and got his attention, waving at him before taking off. Ron would understand if he didn't wait around for him, he assured himself.

Making his way to the elevator, he caught it up to the lobby and made his way over to the fireplaces to use the Floo network.

He emerged at Grimmauld Place, which he currently called home**,** having renovated and cleaned it after the war. He no longer needed it to play host as the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, and after he, along with a large band of his friends**,** had managed to remove the portrait of Mrs Black and the Black family tapestry from the walls, the place was almost homey. Ron had moved in over time, and Luna also made a home there with him. And anyone who wanted a bed to sleep in after a night out in London was similarly accommodated there.

Harry took off his Apprentice robes and went out to the front hall to hang it on one of the hooks by the front door. From there he made his way down to the kitchen to grab himself a drink. When he opened the refrigerator all that he found were vegetables, milk, butter, eggs, and a six-pack of Ron's favourite lager. He grabbed the beer and popped the cap off, taking a generous slug of the bitter liquid. He would have to make a trip to the Three Broomsticks to pick up a case of butterbeer and some of Rosmerta's house-made wine for Luna to drink.

He wandered back up the stairs, picking up his bag from the front hall and taking it up to the library. He had more theory exams to revise for, and the sooner he got started, the more prepared he would be. If there was one thing he had picked up from Hermione eventually, it was**, **surprisingly, getting ahead on schoolwork**.** He pulled out a few textbooks**,** along with a parchment and quill to make notes.

About an hour later**,** he heard the Floo activate downstairs and assumed that Ron had returned from the Ministry. He got up and stretched before making his way down to greet his friend. When he arrived however, he saw that it was Luna, and she was brushing soot from her bright blue robes.

'Hey**,** Luna,' he greeted her, walking over and planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

'Harry!' she exclaimed in surprise, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. 'I didn't expect you to be home. Da' said you'd be busy today.'

'How did your dad know I was going to be busy today, Luna?' he asked, confused.

'I don't really know. I think he's been spending too much time smoking his pipe with the garden gnomes again,' she replied with a smile.

Harry shook his head in wonder. Luna, while having shed some of her dreaminess over the years since the war, was still very much a dreamer at heart. Harry was certain that this was one of the qualities he most admired about her. Her father**,** however, was a completely different story. Xenophilius Lovegood was eccentric at best. Luna, however, was just different enough to be perfect for him. She liked him for who he was as a person, rather than because he was the Boy-who-lived. She placed a small kiss on his mouth, bringing him out of his musings.

'How was your day?' he asked her as she released him from her grip.

'It was exceptionally ordinary,' she answered, shrugging out of her robes.

Harry took her robes for her and hung them up on the hook beside his before returning to sit with her in the sitting room. On his return however, he was more than a little bit surprised to find Severus Snape's face in the green flames in his sitting room fireplace, with Luna sitting on the rug before it with a small smile on her face.

'Ah, Mr Potter, just the person I was looking for,' the Potions master said formally.

Harry cleared his throat. 'Ummm, what can I do for you, Professor?' he asked politely, surprising himself.

'I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time,' the dark-haired wizard replied. 'I have a matter of important to discuss with you.'

Harry almost sighed**,** but stopped himself just in time. He looked to Luna**,** who nodded at him encouragingly.

'All right, sir,' he said. 'Come right on through.'

* * *

Snape looked covertly around the room he was in from beneath his dark lashes. The sitting room in Grimmauld Place looked very different from the way it had only a few short years before. It looked as though all of the varnish had been stripped from the wood in every room, and had been varnished again in a lighter colour. All of the furniture had been altered or replaced, and the curtains too. It simply felt like an altogether different place to him.

He returned his gaze to the couple across from him. Lune Lovegood had been a surprising choice of partner for Potter. He remembered the girl had been a rather curious person at Hogwarts, and she looked rather as though very little had changed over the years. Everyone had been so convinced that Potter would marry Ginny Weasley straight after the two left Hogwarts, breed a small Quidditch team, and become an official member of the Weasley family. Snape was glad the boy seemed to have more sense than that.

Potter cleared his throat somewhat nervously. 'Can we offer you something to drink, Professor?' he asked a tad formally.

Snape shook his head slightly. 'No, thank you, Potter,' he answered. 'I don't see much point in beating around the bush. I am here to speak with you about your friend.'

'Ron?' Potter blurted out without thinking.

Snape snorted at the thought. What could he possibly have to say about Weasley? The idea was absurd at best. He opened his mouth to reply, but the Lovegood girl beat him to it.

'I think the Professor was talking about Hermione,' she piped, placing her hand on Potter's.

'Hermione? What about her?' Potter exclaimed.

'I'm sure that two weeks ago you noticed Miss Granger was looking rather… unwell… so to speak,' Snape said seriously. 'I've come to speak to you about her current state.'

Potter's brain seemed to switch on, and Snape could almost hear the cogs turning in his head.

'You know something about what is wrong with Hermione, don't you?' the younger man asked.

'I do,' Snape replied. 'To put it simply, Mr Potter, Miss Granger was suffering from the early signs of drug withdrawal. I believe she is addicted to a drug or potion, what I have yet to discover, but it has gotten to a destructive point.'

Potter's lips became a thin line. 'How do you know that is what it is?' he demanded.

'I know, because I once experienced the same symptoms myself when I was a lot younger. Miss Granger is going through withdrawal because she is trying to attempt to break her addiction,' he answered honestly. 'It will not work for her. She is probably back to using again now, having failed at her attempt.'

Lovegood chose that moment to pipe up. 'If Hermione is having problems, why hasn't she come to one of her friends for help?' she asked.

Snape was about to reply, but Potter forestalled him with a hand.

'Because she is ashamed of her condition. She doesn't want to be a burden to any of us, so she thinks that dealing with it on her own is the only way,' Potter said sadly. 'Dammit, the silly woman is always trying to be so selfless.'

'Yes, well that may be the case, but Granger needs your help. I did not report her to the Ministry because**,** despite all evidence that suggests otherwise, I admire Miss Granger's intellect. I would not want to have her expelled from her studies if anyone were to discover her problem,' Snape admitted.

Potter looked at him in surprise. 'Why did you come to me?' he asked. 'I know you have no such admiration for me, so why?'

'Because I believe I can help Miss Granger, but I cannot do this thing alone. As her family is out of the question at this time, you are the next best thing. I do not, however, want every Tom, Dick, and more specifically, Weasley, involved in this. You and Miss Lovegood must swear not to say anything or involve anyone else.'

Harry Potter gave him a long look before finally nodding in agreement. 'All right, it's a deal. Luna and I will help Hermione,' he said firmly.

'You are placing an awful lot of trust in a person you do not event like, Potter,' Snape said, surprise still coursing through him at the boys easy acceptance of the issue and his rules.

'Hermione is one of the closest people to me. If I had a sister, I should like to think that she'd be just like her,' Potter replied. 'If this is the only way to get her better, then I will accept your conditions. Besides, Ron is terrible at keeping secrets, and as you well know, that is very much a Weasley family trait.'

Snape snorted at that. 'Well, at least you are not as easily fooled as I once believed,' he said with a hint of sarcasm. 'Your friend will be very hard to convince that she needs help. How best would you suggest we approach her?'

Potter smiled and gave Lovegood's hand a squeeze. 'That is where Luna comes in. I think she'll manage to find a way to get Hermione to open up to her,' he said with a grin. 'And when she does, do we send her to you?'

Snape paused for a moment to consider. This was his final chance to decide whether he wanted any more part in this. He looked at Potter to see that he was waiting for an answer. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his weary eyes.

'Yes, Potter. As soon as Miss Lovegood gets Miss Granger to open up about her problem, you send her to me.'

* * *

To be continued.


	5. Chapter 5: Adrift

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to AmyLouise for all of her help as my beta for this story.

* * *

_Adrift, defined as drifting or floating freely, unanchored, without direction or purpose._

* * *

Hermione stared out the window of her study and sighed. She was bored out of her brain and unable to sleep. It had been almost three weeks since her final exam, and the days had been practically crawling past. She needed a new project—something to keep her mind so preoccupied that she had very little time left to think about less pleasant things. She put down the book she was reading and stuffed a marker into it to hold her place. She had barely read anything for the past hour, and was tired of trying to absorb the same paragraph over and over.

Getting up from her chair, Hermione made her way through her flat to the kitchen. She grabbed the kettle and filled it with water before heading over to the stove and lighting the flame beneath it. As she waited for the water to boil, she sprinkled some tealeaves at the bottom of her favourite teapot.

She closed her eyes, wanting to beat her fists against a wall. Even though she had lived a relatively normal Muggle life, doing everything the Muggle way made her feel as though she could not longer live up to her reputation as being a strong and powerful witch. These days, she barely used her magic unless she had to for her schoolwork**,** otherwise her magical stores became too quickly drained.

It was pathetic. She was tired beyond belief, but could not sleep without the aid of potions. She struggled to perform even the most basic of charms, and yet she still deigned to call herself a witch. She could barely even look at herself in the mirror any more. After the first few days of trying to quit her drug, she had been surprised to last as long as she had under the circumstances.

'Damn,' she muttered under her breath as the kettle began to boil over slightly, whistling loudly.

She quickly grabbed it from the stove with a tea towel, and set it down on a heatproof mat on the kitchen bench. Hermione returned to the stove and switched off the flame before returning to the bench to pour the boiling water into the teapot, watching the leaves swirl around in the water. She put the kettle back on the mat and took the pot over to the table so that she could sit and wait for it to steep. Realising that she was hungry, she got up again and went in search of some food. She found a box of peanut butter biscuits and returned to the table to pour her tea.

As she munched on her biscuits and sipped her tea gingerly, Hermione reflected on her life recently**,** and the overwhelming feeling of dissatisfaction she felt. Was this normal? Was she just supposed to wander through the rest of her life without anything left to give it meaning? Had she simply been put on the earth to serve as an aid to the great Harry Potter in the war against Voldemort? And now that the Dark Lord was gone, what was left for her to do? She wished that she knew the answers to all the questions spiralling through her mind.

Before she could take another moment to think, she head the Floo network activate in her fireplace in the other room.

'Hermione?' a familiar voice called out airily. 'Are you at home?'

Panicking slightly, Hermione quickly cast a glamour charm to try and disguise the dark circles beneath her eyes and hurried into the other room to answer the call. She found Luna Lovegood's head floating amidst the green flames, much to her surprise. Offering the younger witch a small smile, she sat down on the couch nearest the fireplace and beckoned Luna to come through and join her. The blonde acquiesced and was soon gently dusting the loose soot from her green robes.

'How have you been, Luna? I asked Harry a few weeks ago, and he said you were getting into the family business,' she remarked lightly, clasping her hands together in her lap nervously. She hoped her friend didn't notice.

'Father has much to teach me about the Quibbler and what it requires to keep running,' Luna answered.

Hermione could feel the younger woman's gaze linger on her face for a moment too long, and she hurried to start a new conversation to distract her from her shabby excuse for a glamour charm.

'Can I offer you a cup of tea or coffee? Perhaps you're hungry?' Hermione offered, gesturing towards the kitchen. 'I was just having something to eat myself.'

Luna's eyebrows rose at Hermione's mention of food before looking pointedly at her spare frame. She sighed, however, and nodded without making a comment, allowing Hermione to lead the way, for which she was grateful. Meanwhile, Hermione had knots in her stomach. She knew Luna had an uncanny way of being able to see many things that others didn't. It appeared that it was not a trait that she had grown out of over the years.

As Luna took a seat at the table, Hermione bustled around the kitchen busily, putting more water in the kettle and back on the stove to boil once more, and preparing the plunger for Luna's coffee. She pulled the fixings for sandwiches from the refrigerator and silently began preparing them while they waited for the water to boil. As Hermione cut the sandwiches, the kettle began to whistle, and she made to remove it from the stove, but was forestalled by Luna, who stood and switched off the flame for her and poured the water into the plunger herself, as well as pouring more into Hermione's teapot.

The two sat down at the table with their lunch and hot drinks when they were finally prepared.

'So,' Luna began after swallowing a bite of her sandwich. 'What is wrong?'

Hermione felt her stomach flutter nervously, not liking at all where this conversation looked to be going. She didn't think she'd be able to swallow her food. 'I don't know what you mean, Luna,' she said, her throat dry. 'I'm fine.'

'You know what I mean,' the younger woman said bluntly. 'You look nervous and tired. You used to be so colourful when I saw you—full of reds and orange and yellows, full of energy. Now when I look at you, all I see is grey.'

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn't believe how close to tears and passing out she was already, but she didn't want either of those things. Crying would be an admittance of her condition; fainting—well**,** it would be much the same, but with an added layer of nightmares. She opened her eyes and saw something like sympathy flash through Luna's blue eyes. Hermione quickly averted her eyes away from the clear, blue, concerned ones.

Hermione could not prevent the inevitable, however, and one tear escaped, followed by another. 'I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping,' she admitted quietly. 'It's not—I have nightmares every time I close my eyes for too long.'

'Harry had nightmares after the war too, for a while,' Luna said, reaching a hand over the table to hold Hermione's in hers gently. 'I had to stay up all night with him sometimes, to hold him so he could get some sleep.'

Hermione shook her head sadly. 'I'm sorry that Harry had to suffer this, but I am afraid that this has progressed much further than that,' she said seriously, rubbing her eyes.

Luna squeezed her hand softly. 'You can tell me if you would like to,' she said softly.

'I—it's had to talk about it. I can't sleep for fear of dreaming, and I can't eat because I just don't feel like food will satisfy me any more,' Hermione explained, tears now coursing down her cheeks in a steady stream. 'When—when the final battle was over, Madam Pomfrey gave me some Dreamless Sleep. I kept taking it, and now I can't stop. I'm on one of the highest dosages now. In a few months I will reach the highest level, but after that, it will be too lethal for me to consume safely any longer. I've been trying to give this up for a long time.'

Luna scooted her chair closer to Hermione's and wrapped her arms around her in a hug while allowing her to cry on her shoulder. Hermione allowed this comfort. It had been a long time since she had been honest with anyone about anything. It was almost like a huge burden was being lifted from her shoulders. After about thirty minutes of solid crying, Hermione ceased and released Luna from her death grip.

She sniffed and tried to compose herself. 'I'm so sorry about that,' she told Luna, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue she Summoned.

Luna stroked Hermione's hair gently. 'It's fine,' she said softly. 'I came here to listen. You obviously need to talk about this with somebody.'

Hermione nodded. If there was any one person that she knew she could trust to be

honest, it was Luna. 'I've tried really hard to give it up on my own,' she explained, hiccoughing. 'I need some help, but I don't really know who I can trust to ask —if the Ministry or college were to find out… well let's just say that expulsion would be the least of my worries.'

Luna nodded, and Hermione could see the younger woman's brow furrow slightly in concentration. She could tell that she was thinking rather intensely about it. The blonde quirked her mouth and nodded to herself**,** as if she needed to add the physical action to the confirmation in her head. Hermione smiled despite herself at this. Luna was a unique individual.

'You look as though you've hit upon a very interesting idea,' she said with a small smile.

Luna nodded. 'I think I know exactly who will be able to help you,' she said, carefully measuring her words. 'But I don't think you will approve.'

Hermione frowned. She didn't think she liked the sound of that, and she still didn't know who it was. 'Tell me,' she said simply.

'Severus Snape.'

Hermione's face fell immediately. How could Luna even think to suggest their former professor? She didn't personally have anything against Snape, but there was something awkward about having a former schoolteacher know that you had a drug addiction. She frowned before returning her gaze to her friend.

'Your idea—well, Luna—Snape? Really?' Hermione stammered.

Luna nodded. 'Severus is the best person for this. He won't get you into any sort of trouble with the Ministry or your school. You know he is a good man, even if you don't really like him.'

Hermione sighed heavily. Luna had a valid point—Snape was potentially the only person she knew who would have any idea what she was dealing with.

'Okay,' Hermione said with a nod.

'I will send him a letter for you, if you'd like me to?' Luna offered helpfully. 'I occasionally see Severus whenever I have business for the _Quibbler_ at Hogsmeade or Hogwarts. He won't mind me owling him.'

Hermione nodded again. 'Okay, but please don't tell him that it's me who needs his help,' she insisted. 'I don't want there to be any chance that he'll object to helping me just because I'm Hermione Granger.'

'He'll know when he sees you the first time,' Luna pointed out.

'I know,' she replied with a small frown. 'I just don't want him to turn me down before he even gives me a chance to convince him to help me.'

Luna nodded in agreement eventually. 'I know you think that Severus will reject you for being Hermione Granger, but I think you'll find he's not the same man who taught us at school. He grew up when we did.'

Hermione bit her lip nervously, but allowed Luna to borrow some stationery on which to write the letter to Snape. She really hoped he would say yes—she wasn't sure how much longer she would last in her condition. Her life was in the hands of fate and Severus Snape now.

* * *

To be continued.


	6. Chapter 6: Affliction

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Thanks to lyn_f and AmyLouise for their help with this chapter.

* * *

_Affliction, defined as the cause of continued pain of body or mind, as sickness of losses etc.; an instance of grievous distress; a pain or grief._

* * *

The bar was relatively silent save for the dripping of the tap behind the long bench of the bar itself. Snape looked up from his Potions journal so that he could see the clock that sat above the front door. It was already three in the afternoon, and he was starting to become anxious. His appointment to meet with Hermione Granger was in half an hour. He had chosen a bar in Muggle London, on a street that was tucked away in the shadows that were Soho, to avoid anyone from the magical world from eavesdropping on their conversation.

The last thing either of them needed was for Granger's problem to become known from their exchange that day. And perhaps part of it was to preserve their reputations. The gossip would run rampant through wizarding Britain if anyone were to see them and mistakenly assume they were spending time together as more than colleagues or acquaintances.

He sighed heavily. There was something exhausting about being out in public, especially whilst waiting for a former student. He had received an owl from Luna Lovegood earlier in the week and, via this correspondence with Potter's girlfriend, had organised to meet Granger that day. He had arrived early to give himself time to prepare himself for this task he had signed himself up for.

It wasn't as though he really disliked Granger. In fact, he found the girl interesting despite himself. Snape just didn't spend any of his time on the summer holidays with anyone else normally, nor did he regularly spend time with any of his former students – not even Draco Malfoy. He had become too used to having vast amounts of personal space, and the idea of sharing that space with another person was both foreign and shocking.

But it was too late now. He had made a commitment, and if nothing else, Snape was a man who held true to his commitments.

The front door to the bar opened, and the bell at the top of the doorframe tinkled, alerting Snape to someone's entry. He looked up and saw the slight form of Hermione Granger looking around, seemingly lost. He stood from his chair then, drawing her attention to him immediately. He saw her take a deep, steeling breath before she made her way over to his table. Snape schooled his expression to one of indifference and slight surprise and pulled out a chair at the table for her to sit on, nodding politely as she accepted and sat down.

'How do you do, professor?' she greeted as he resumed his seat.

'I have been worse, and yourself, Miss Granger?' he replied, the very essence of courtesy.

'You already seemed to know that it was me you'd be meeting here today,' she pointed out bluntly, an eyebrow rising in suspicion.

'You don't seem at all surprised by that,' he replied. 'If you are concerned that Miss Lovegood revealed your identity to me, rest easy. She told me nothing. I merely made an educated guess based on the one who contacted me, and by the way you appeared in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago.'

Granger chuckled dryly at that. Snape took a moment to let his eyes wander over her face. The dark circles, glamoured thinly as they were, were unmistakeably there. She was thinner than he recalled from a few weeks before, and pale. He wasn't sure when she had found the time do as much as she did with so little energy and magic to spare. He imagined, however, that the extreme sleep deprivation left her a lot of time to study. He recalled being much the same during his studying stint after leaving Hogwarts.

He knew this would be a challenge, but he felt now, even more than before, that this was something important.

'So…' Granger said, interrupting him from his thoughts. 'I suppose you want to talk about this… problem of mine, correct?'

'In a matter of speaking,' he replied. 'Tell me, Miss Granger, when did this problem of yours begin affecting your studies?'

'It hasn't,' she replied, her answer short and to the point.

Snape was baffled. How could the girl possibly be getting enough sleep or nourishment to maintain the focus she would require to operate that brain of hers? He considered her for a moment and a thought came to him. If she were putting all of her effort into her schoolwork, it would explain why she was barely able to produce even so much as a convincing glamour. He would bet anything that she was essentially living like a Muggle but for her practical work for college. But why had she allowed herself to waste away to such a considerable degree?

'Why don't you jut tell me what you feel comfortable with for now,' he said finally.

As Snape sat and listened to her speak in hushed tones to him for the next hour, he watched her face to ensure she was telling him the truth. She was honest, and he could see the glamour waver a few times as her energy began to fade. When she finished her tale, she looked down at her hands on the table and seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

Snape raised his hand to beckon the bar keeper over. 'We'll have two hot toddies, please,' he told the man, who immediately went back over to the bar to fetch their order.

When the barkeeper returned with their drinks, Snape pushed one over to Granger and finally looked her in the eye. 'I am working on a few different projects at the moment, and I believe that it would be to both your advantage and mine if you would agree to work with me over the summer,' he said seriously.

'What sort of projects are they?' she asked, her eyes brightening immediately at the mention of a scholastic endeavour.

Snape quirked an eyebrow at her. 'Well, I should think that was obvious,' he replied with a smirk. 'I can't really talk about it in this… establishment. However, if you would consent to come to my residence tomorrow morning, I will explain as best I can, and soon we should be able to formulate a more direct plan of attack for your problem.'

After a few moments she nodded. 'All right,' she agreed, taking a swallow of her drink, coughing at how strong it was. 'I suppose you'll want me to come over at around nine?'

Snape nodded, and they finished their drinks together in silence. He jotted down his address on a napkin before they both stood to leave. Snape went to the bar and paid for the drinks, and when he joined Granger at the door, he waved off her attempt to pay him back. He watched as she walked away, her shoulders slumped and head ducked low. He made his way alone to a nearby alleyway and Apparated immediately to his home.

He hung up his cloak in the cupboard by the front door and immediately made his way to his study to do some serious pacing. He walked from the window to the bookshelves and back to the door. His mind was filled with Granger and what he should do about her problem. She had told him everything – about the war, her nightmares and the sleepless nights, about her potion making and all of the ways she had tried to justify the use of the drug to herself.

The ridiculous girl was so much like he had been when he was her age – when he had been free of the darkness that had corrupted his soul.

He envied her for being as strong-willed as she had been initially, and that she was able to admit she had a problem. It had taken him much longer to admit to himself that his addiction was severe, and even longer still to admit to others that he did, in fact, have a problem and needed help. His reluctance to leave Hogwarts without attaining a Potions master was due, in large part, to the role Minerva McGonagall and Poppy Pomfrey had played in his recovery. It would have been bad form of him to leave Minerva in her hour of need, when she had been helpful during his when he was in need of assistance.

He rolled up his shirtsleeves; the summer heat really was getting to him despite the regular cooling charms he cast on himself. Heading downstairs and even further down to the lab, he decided to go through his catalogue for all of the potions they had on hand at Hogwarts. The book was a solid, leather-bound tome, which magically recorded the potions that made their way through the infirmary, adding and subtracting in the journal automatically.

The first thing he was going to get Granger to do was make all of the potions required to restock the infirmary. It would be something to keep her mind occupied for the first couple of weeks and would serve the dual purpose of freeing up some time for him to work on his own project. When he was ready for her to join him on his project, he would start to include her, little by little, when she was ready.

After that – well, he was just walking around blindly at the moment.

For a start, he would need to define his project a little further and tailor it to a specific purpose. As yet, he had only come up with a rough idea of what kind of potion he was going to create with the bases that he had created. He knew that he was heading in the direction of working on potions to stimulate brain function. Logically, this should lead towards a potion to restore memories, and he thought that would be the perfect direction to go in with regards to Granger.

With regards to her parents – if they could somehow create a potion to restore their memories to them and bring them back into her life, he had a feeling that her recovery would begin to take giant leaps rather than just baby steps.

He smiled to himself deviously. It was perfect. He would start Granger off on a few simple tasks that she would be able to complete efficiently and effectively, and feed her until she put on some weight. He would monitor her drug habits and ensure that she was getting sleep. How he would do it, he was not certain, but it would work out. And slowly but surely, she would recover, just as he had under the supervision of Minerva and Poppy.

Shaking his head, he sighed. He needed to stop thinking about Granger for a while.

He closed the journal and put it away, walking back up the stairs and into the kitchen to put on the kettle. He was still feeling a little warm from the alcohol he had consumed in the bar with Granger. He wanted to clear his head before he went back downstairs to draft up plans for the potion project. He needed to have some clear ideas written down before he involved his former student with it. It would surprise her and hopefully encourage her to try harder to work through her withdrawal.

The kettle began to whistle, alerting him to the water having reached the boiling point, and he removed it from the flame, turning the stove off before pouring the water into the teapot he had prepared. After a few minutes, he sat down with a mug of green tea and Summoned the _Daily Prophet_ to him. He flipped through it, wondering when the day would come when it was useful as more than a fish and chip wrapper.

He sat back and stared out the kitchen window, wondering how he had managed to end up with a conscience the size of China. Before he had gotten involved with Dumbledore and the Order, things were never like this. It was all that involvement with do-gooders that made him this way. He snorted softly. It was entirely Albus Dumbledore's fault he had turned into such a soft case. He probably would never have thought to help Granger if not for Dumbledore.

He shook his head and took another swallow of his tea before getting up and heading back down to the lab. He had work to be getting on with. Granger would be arriving in the morning, and he still had a list to write and a potion project to outline and begin research for.

* * *

To be continued.


	7. Chapter 7: Agreeable

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to AmyLouise for her help as the beta for this chapter.

* * *

_Agreeable, defined as being __suitable to your needs or similar to your nature; "a congenial atmosphere to work in"; "two congenial spirits united...by mutual confidence and reciprocal virtues"__._

* * *

Hermione nervously fidgeted with her robes as she waited on Snape's doorstep that morning.

It was exactly nine o'clock**,** and she was waiting for her former professor to answer his door and let her inside. She looked about his yard nervously, surprised that there were flowers and shrubs along with some pretty maple trees in the front yard. She could hardly be surprised by how immaculately it was kept. It was Snape, after all. Her attention was diverted back to the door when she heard footsteps coming from behind it, and soon she was face-to-face with the tall, looming figure that was Severus Snape.

'Good morning, Miss Granger,' he greeted, his long arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe.

'Good morning, Professor,' she replied, offering him a small, polite smile. 'Are you going to invite me inside, or are we to remain out here?'

He stepped to the side and gestured for her to enter, pulling the door shut behind them when she was in. He helped her out of her robes and hung them in the cloak closet, leading the way to the end of the hall and entered the kitchen. He waved his wand and the kettle automatically filled with water and set itself onto the lit stovetop to begin boiling. He manually began to pull out the tea things and offered Hermione a seat at the kitchen table.

She sat down, watching him as he smoothly glided from one side of the kitchen to the other, getting all of the fixings together for their tea. He joined her a few moments later with cups, a teapot full of the hot liquid, sugar, and milk. He poured the tea for her, and she accepted the cup. She put some milk into the tea, abstaining from sugar, and lifted it to her lips to sip at it. She put the cup back down, barely able to stop her hands from shaking horribly.

'You don't have to try and hide it from me, Miss Granger,' he said, reaching across to unclasp her hands from one another. 'I already know, and it is putting a strain on you to try so hard to disguise it.'

She nodded, looking down at her hands. 'I—I didn't take any of the potion last night, and I haven't really had a lot of sleep,' she told him, not bothering to try and lie to him. She wouldn't be able to hide it from him anyway.

'You wont be able to quit it all in one go like that, Granger,' he scolded. 'You will have to ween yourself off it slowly. Cold turkey doesn't work the same way for drugs as it does cigarettes.'

'I understand,' she replied. 'When are we going to get to work?'

'As soon as we have finished having tea, Miss Granger,' he told her. 'You must learn some patience. I see very little has changed about you from your years at Hogwarts. Still precocious as ever.'

She frowned at that comment. Perhaps she hadn't changed much, aside from her depression, sleep deprivation and drug addiction, but he was not one to talk. He looked and acted almost the same as he had back then, except now he was treating her like an injured forest creature rather than a pesky know-it-all. She wasn't sure which was worse in her opinion yet. She was certain that she would get a chance to find out soon enough.

She returned her attention to the task of finishing her tea, and soon enough, they were done**,** and Snape sent all of their cups and the teapot to the sink to clean themselves and led the way down to his lab. She looked around the room, impressed by the layout and seeming sophistication of it. It was clean, and had a large workbench in the middle of the room, and there was also another long bench that was along the right wall with two deep metal sinks also embedded into it. The opposite wall contained a series of shelves, which stored chopping boards, knives, and various other potion utensils along with cauldrons, and at the end of the room was a door to what was, no doubt, the storeroom.

'This is very impressive,' she said, gesturing around the room.

'A far cry from your kitchen table at home, am I correct?' he replied, a hint of teasing in his tone, much to Hermione's surprise.

'Much more advanced,' she replied, a small frown creasing her brow. 'So, when do we get started on your project?'

Snape summoned a sheet of parchment over to them and passed it to her. 'I have constructed a list of potions that I would like you to complete before I allow you to have any involvement in my project,' he began, tapping the parchment in her hands lightly. 'I can see that petulant look forming already, Miss Granger. No, I will not be including you in my important work until I am certain that you are able to perform well on tasks you are familiar with.'

She glanced over the list and looked up at him incredulously. 'There is over two weeks worth of brewing here!' she exclaimed, her hands immediately going to her hips as she puffed up to complain. 'I came here under the impression that I would be doing something interesting…'

'And you will,' Snape said, cutting off her tirade before it could begin. 'When I deem you fit and well enough to begin assisting me in the project, you will be as involved as you choose to be. But until I can trust you to do simple tasks in your current state, I will not risk my important work to a girl who has barely eaten or slept in months. Look at your hands right now, Miss Granger. How steady do you think I will need them to be in the crucial stages of brewing an experimental potion?'

Hermione felt herself deflate immediately. Snape was right. She was a mess, and she had come there expecting to just jump straight into doing complex work, with a man she knew to be careful and meticulous. Not bloody likely. She knew now that she would have to earn Snape's trust and the right to work on something more important. Until then, she supposed doing Snape's grunt work was better than sitting at home alone, feeling sorry for herself. It would keep her occupied, and Snape had promised to help her with her addiction.

'I apologise,' she murmured softly. 'I suppose I had set my expectations a little high before I cam here today. Logically, I know I'm not ready for the project, but it still rankles a little.'

'That is fine,' he answered**,** a little stiffly. 'Well, as you can see, everything you will need is more or less where you would expect. I will be sitting at this end of the room with my research, so you may utilise the other end of the bench to brew. Any questions you have, you may ask whenever you need my assistance.'

Hermione nodded and watched as Snape summoned all of his books and notes to him and sat down to begin working on his project, while she stood there, still trying to figure out where she should begin on the list. She went to the other side of the bench and put her bag down on a stool, pulling out some ink and a quill so she could mark things off as she completed them. Deciding she should start off slowly, she put a mark next to the first two potions she wanted to complete by the end of the day.

She went to the storage shelf on the left wall of the room and pulled down two standard pewter cauldrons, setting them up on the workbench with water filled to the halfway mark in them, and a flame beneath each. She was glad that Snape used magical burners, because she wasn't sure she had the energy or concentration to be able to maintain a steady flame for the time it took to brew each potion. She then went into the storeroom to collect the ingredients that she required for each potion, and returned to the lab, arms laden with jars and bushels of herbs.

She glanced over to Snape briefly and saw his head was down as he scribbled away at his notes, flipping idly through textbooks and journals with a wave of his hand. She was, as always, impressed by the level of control Snape had over his magical abilities. She could remember when she had been able to do the same, and desperately desired for a return to the days when she could impress people with her grasp of magic and her magical knowledge.

Shaking her head, she returned her focus back to the task at hand, and lined the ingredients up in a neat orderly fashion before going to the shelf again to collect a mortar and pestle, a chopping board, and a knife. She immediately began the preparation of her ingredients, and pounded away on herbs and mixed them with tinctures, turning things into pastes, mincing roots, and squeezing the juice out of beans and pods.

She began to slowly add the various ingredients she would need to each of the cauldrons, carefully timing them so that she could stir and add more to each cauldron at different times.

After a while, she stopped to sit and watch over the cauldrons when they needed to simmer, taking a break from stirring. She rested her head in her hands, her elbows propped on the bench. She stared at the potions and thought that she was doing rather well, and noticed that she didn't shake nearly as much when she was concentrating on brewing, as she did when her hands were idle. She supposed it was a good thing.

She looked up to the other end of the bench and was surprised to see that Snape's seat was vacant, and all that was left there were his books and journal, as well as his writing paraphernalia. She was so focussed on her brewing that she hadn't even noticed him leave the room. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, she got up from her seat and walked over to where his books were spread out. What surprised her though, was to find that all of the words on the pages were blurry and scrambled, and the pages of his journal were blank.

'I cast a spell on those before I left, just in case you happened to wander across the room while I was away,' said Snape from behind her, startling her.

She spun around, feeling heat spread from her neck up to her cheeks, infusing them with a splotchy pink. She couldn't believe she had just been caught out snooping. Snape had a tray with sandwiches in his hand, along with two glasses of what appeared to be pumpkin juice. He smirked at her before walking past her and placing them on the bench nearest them.

'We're having lunch. You should eat at this end to prevent contaminating your potions,' he told her firmly, gesturing for her to sit on the stool beside his, as he took a seat himself.

Hermione complied, wondering why it was so hard to ignore Snape's schoolteacher tone, and picked up a small triangle and began to eat. She was surprised by how good it tasted despite the ingredients being relatively simple; mustard pickle, lettuce, tomato, cheddar and corned beef. They ate mostly in silence, but strangely, she did not feel as uncomfortable as she had expected to in Snape's company. He was actually not a bad companion at all. He had remained quietly working on his end of the bench, and did not hover over her shoulder as she brewed, and he brought her lunch, despite the fact that she didn't exactly deserve all of his patience and— almost—kindness.

She'd had no idea before now how agreeable Snape could actually be. It was a pleasant surprise**,** to say the least.

After they finished eating, Snape took the tray back upstairs, and Hermione retuned to stirring and tending her potions. After two more hours of stirring, scraping and adding various ingredients, her two potions were finally complete, and she only had to let them cool before she could decant them into vials and store them on the shelf for Snape.

She was busy tidying up, and so, didn't hear Snape walk over to inspect her work, and nearly jumped in fright when she turned and found him standing over her cauldrons.

'Pepper-up Potion and Calming Draught,' he murmured as she came up to stand beside him.

'They were the two easiest ones on the list,' she said simply.

'I am satisfied with your work today, Miss Granger,' he said, looking at her with his dark, inscrutable eyes. 'When you have finished decanting the potion, you are free to go for the day. I will see you at nine tomorrow morning.'

Hermione nodded. Half an hour later, the entire work area was clean**,** and she had put away all of the cauldrons and instruments she had used, as well as storing the potions carefully. Snape looked up and nodded at her briefly as she walked up to him with her bag, ready to go. She nodded back and walked up the stairs, leaving his house for the day.

_So far, so good_, she thought to herself as she walked down the road to the Apparation point.

* * *

To be continued.


	8. Chapter 8: Affinity

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Thanks go out to AmyLouise for all of her help beta-ing this chapter.

* * *

_Affinity, defined as __a close connection marked by community of interests or similarity in nature or character, for example; "He felt a deep kinship with the other students"__._

* * *

Snape watched as Hermione Granger struggled with the last few steps of her potion, tempted to assist her, but more determined to see her complete it on her own.

She was simultaneously applying a cooling charm to the potion, stirring it, and attempting to switch off the flame all at once. The task would have been a simple task for any witch or wizard with a reasonable level of concentration and magical energy, but for Granger, it was almost too difficult**,** given her present state. Over the past two weeks**,** she had put on a little weight and her colour was returning, due to the meals he was forcing her to eat, making her eat both breakfast and lunch with him at his home, and also by extracting a promise from her that she would eat dinner at home.

So far, their progress on weening her off Dreamless Sleep had been less successful, and they had only managed to lower her dosage by one grade over that time. She was still coming in after only having a couple of short hours of sleep each night, but at least it was going somewhere. After all, Snape had not expected immediate results, and she had not failed to meet his expectations as far as her brewing skill went.

'You did well, Miss Granger,' he told her as she finally stopped stirring, having completed the potion. 'It is very difficult to get the consistency correct for Burn-healing paste, and you managed it on only a few short hours of sleep, and no prior experience brewing it. You should congratulate yourself.'

She smiled**,** and he could see the splotches of pink appear on her cheeks**,** indicating that she was embarrassed. 'Thanks,' she said shyly. 'I suppose you have little tubs around here somewhere for me to put it all in?'

Snape nodded and Summoned a box that contained small, empty tins with screw tops for her to decant the paste, that contained small, empty tins with screw tops for her to decant the paste. 'I could assist you with this, if you would like,' he said, joining her over at the large cauldron. 'It smells like cinnamon and cloves.'

Hermione nodded. 'The recipe indicated a period in which I was free to add a scent to the potion or leave it as it was. I thought it might be nice if it smelled pretty,' she answered sheepishly.

Snape nodded in response, not dignifying it with a comment. He had become rather good at holding his tongue over the past fortnight. He really had to, with Granger pottering around in his house on a daily basis. The last thing he needed was for her to relapse because he had said something rude and offended her delicate sensibilities at that time. He knew, that as she grew healthier and stronger again, she would be able to handle some of his bite. But until then, he was keeping his temper and remarks on a short leash.

'You know, I really appreciate that you've been giving me work to keep my mind off other things during the day,' she said suddenly, snapping him back to the present. 'I've been going home feeling more tired than normal lately, and I think it is helping me head towards getting natural sleep rather than using the Dreamless Sleep. I might be able to try and step back another grade tonight.'

Snape acknowledged her statement with an incline of his head. 'I am pleased that you feel that you can progress to the next step down. I had hoped that this approach to your weening would make it easier for you,' he said seriously.

'This burn paste feels kind of like the fat Muggles in Southern U.S. use to fry chicken in,' she commented idly with a small chuckle, playing with the cream between her thumb and forefinger.

'Yes, it is not unlike Crisco as far as texture goes, but you'll find that the properties are very different,' he replied, rolling his eyes at her as she continued to mess around with it. 'Miss Granger, please act your age. You should know better than to play with your potions.'

She giggled and cast a cleansing charm on her hand before returning to the task of scooping the paste up and putting it into the little containers. After they were finished, Snape scrubbed the cauldron as Hermione cleaned and tidied everything else. By the time they were finished, the clock on the wall beside the storeroom read that it was already ten minutes to six in the evening.

'My apologies that this has kept you here so long today, Miss Granger,' he said quietly. 'If you would prefer, I will not expect you here until eleven tomorrow morning. You could attempt to sleep in.'

Granger snorted at that. 'Well, I don't know about sleeping in, but I do have a few essays I agreed to look over for a friend of mine, so I might postpone them for this evening and do them in the morning instead,' she said with a shrug.

'Very well,' Snape said with a dismissive nod.

He watched as Granger gathered up all of her things and made her way past him to the stairs to exit the lab. At the last moment, however, she paused at the stairs and turned around, walking back over to him.

'Would you like to come over to my house for dinner?' she asked, her amber eyes round and wide, and hands clasped together nervously.

'Excuse me?' Snape replied, slightly shocked.

'Well, I feel bad, as I owe you for all of your help, and you have asked me for nothing in return after all of the time you have expended on getting me better,' she explained. 'I wanted to make you dinner, to say thank you. But I can see that it was silly of me to think you'd want that. Sorry.'

He watched as she turned on her heal and made her way back to the stairs and fled the lab. Shaking his head to clear it of shock, he sprang up from his stool and took the stairs two at a time so that he could catch her. It wasn't as though he was against the idea of having dinner with the woman**,** it was simply his shock that had left him speechless. He reached the top of the stairs and walked straight over to her, catching one of her hands in his as she made to open the front door and leave.

'You didn't give me a chance to answer properly,' he said, catching his breath. 'Silly woman. I was going to tell you that I would be honoured to have dinner with you.'

'Oh,' she said, looking down at where his hand enveloped hers and blushing.

Snape followed her line of sight and realised that he was still holding her hand, and quickly let go, feeling an uncomfortable tug around his navel**,** and his own cheeks beginning to warm. Unwilling to think about it too much now, he shook off the feeling before his ridiculous mind started to over**-**analyse it**,** the way Granger's already appeared to be. He went to the cloak cupboard and grabbed his frock coat, pulling it on roughly to indicate they should go.

Granger appeared to give herself a mental shake also, and took a deep breath before nodding at him. 'I can Apparate us there if you are not opposed to Side-along,' she suggested. 'I usually do so from the park down the road.'

Snape frowned at that. 'You've been leaving here every day to Apparate from that park down the road?' he asked. 'That is ridiculous. You may Apparate directly to my house into the front hall from now on, and the same goes for when you leave in the afternoon.'

She nodded meekly and ducked her head, embarrassed. 'As you wish,' she replied. 'I wasn't sure what you would consider acceptable, and I didn't want to presume or appear impolite…'

'No, you're right. I should have said something sooner,' he interrupted. 'So, are you ready to leave?'

'Yes,' she answered. 'Grab my hand and I'll Apparate us there now.'

Snape had a brief moment of reconsideration, but realised it would be rude to withdraw his offer then after already accepting, and stuck his hand out for her to take before he could change his mind again. He felt a tug around his navel**,** and in the blink of an eye, he was standing in the middle of a sitting room he had never been in before. There were two armchairs in front of the small fireplace, with photos lined up along the mantle. The walls were decorated with paintings in the renaissance style, and one large bookshelf beside the coat hooks by the front door.

There was a small hallway that led down to what he assumed were the bedrooms and bathroom, and directly before him was an archway that led to the kitchen.

Granger led the way into the kitchen, where he saw she had a cauldron permanently set up on the far end of the table near the wall. It was a fairly spacious flat, and for all appearances, seemed to suit her perfectly. She stopped in front of the refrigerator and stood there, staring inside it numbly.

He stepped up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly. 'You didn't have anything planned?' he asked with a chuckle.

She spun around, a blush staining her cheeks. 'I suppose I hadn't really thought about that when I asked you,' she said, looking down at the floor.

'That's fine,' Snape said, gently urging her to step to the side.

He began riffling through her fridge and pulled out a few different things: some mushrooms, chives, cream, cheese, white wine, garlic, and some chicken breasts. Hermione found a packet of pasta in the pantry and placed that on the bench before collecting a large saucepan from the cupboard beside the stove and a pan to cook the sauce in. He watched as she filled the pot with water and a decent pinch of salt, putting it on the stove to boil.

They worked harmoniously together, just as they did in the lab, chopping all of the ingredients up. Snape ended up cooking the sauce adding garlic, chicken, and chives before adding the mushrooms, white wine and cream. He seasoned it with a little salt and pepper, while Hermione attended to the pasta, pouring the cooked pasta into a strainer in the sink, and plating it up before allowing Snape to put sauce over it.

Snape poured two glasses of white wine to accompany it, and sat down at the table to eat the meal they prepared together.

'Thank you for this lovely meal,' Hermione said, looking up at him.

'We made it together,' he said simply, swirling the pasta around his fork. 'Thank you for having me over for dinner this evening.'

She nodded simply, and they sat in silence, eating together. Neither one of them spoke for the duration. It was strange, but Snape did not feel at all uncomfortable with Granger. She was a like mind, and over the past two weeks he had come to understand and know her a little better. He looked up at her and watched her nibble at her food, picking at it. She looked up and noticed him watching her, which made her stop picking**,** and she actually ate her food properly after that.

'I think you should take the weekend off,' he told her. 'You've been working very hard for the past two weeks. It will do you some good to get some space to yourself. Maybe see your friends Mr Potter and Miss Lovegood?'

She frowned slightly for a second, but soon looked back at him with a slight smile. 'You know, I think I might take you up on that,' she said.

'When you come back to work with me next week, I think I might be ready for you to begin working with me on the project,' he said**,** with a small smirk at the way her eyes lit up. 'You have to promise me that over the weekend you will maintain a minimum of three meals a day, and try to ween yourself back down another grade.'

She nodded in agreement. 'All right, I will do my best,' she replied with a smile.

Snape shook his head at her excitement. Granger was still as predictable as ever, but he found he didn't dislike that about her.

* * *

To be continued.


	9. Chapter 9: Astonished

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to my beta for her help with this chapter.

* * *

_Astonished, defined as being filled with the emotional impact of overwhelming surprise or shock; "an amazed audience gave the magician a standing ovation"__._

* * *

The loud beeping sound of her alarm clock woke her that morning, the sound growing louder the longer she let it go on.

Rolling over, she thumped her hand down on it to silence it. She still used a Muggle alarm clock to wake herself, not trusting her own magic to cast the alarm charm. She could vaguely remember falling into a fitful sleep at one in the morning, after taking a dose of the Dreamless Sleep potion. True to her word to Snape she had gone down another grade in dosage size, and had still managed to get almost six hours of sleep.

Ever since she had been working with the man she often found herself weary and unable to think too much at night, which helped her not to have horrible visions. This left only the nightmares that would occasionally creep back in at night before she fell into the deep sleep that the potion offered, and stop dreaming totally. It was freeing working with the man and since she had been eating regularly and catching a few more hours of sleep every night, her spells and charm work had improved. She was well on her way to being able to reduce her dosage by another grade.

Hermione got out of bed then, remembering that it was Sunday and she had promised Snape that she would not come to his house that weekend; to instead pursue her own hobbies and visit friends. Harry and Luna were expecting her at nine that morning, to spend some time with them, and see Ron when he finally returned from Sunday lunch at the Burrow with his family.

She wandered into the bathroom and gazed into the mirror at her face.

Well at least eating properly was making her hair a lot healthier. Rather than the brittle, lanky, brown mess that had been there, it was a lot shinier and almost glossy, the curls falling loosely over her shoulders and down her back. Her cheeks were a little less gaunt than they had been, and she was no longer as pale as a sheet of paper. She stripped out of her pyjamas and into the shower, allowing the water to wash over her and wake her up properly.

Afterwards she stepped out, squeezing the water from her hair before wrapping a towel around herself.

She wandered into the bedroom, dressing herself in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, grabbing a sweater and pulling it over her head before heading out to the kitchen with her towel wrapped around her hair. She poured herself a glass of orange juice, and put on the toaster, grabbing out a small frying pan and cooking an egg. She sat down with her egg on toast and juice, sorting through the mail that was waiting for her on the table.

She ate her food, flipping through the pages of the _Daily Prophet_, uninterested but unable to just sit there. When she finished, she cleaned her dishes and went to sit in one of her armchairs by the fire, and opened a book, settling down to read for a while before heading over to Grimmauld Place.

At five to nine, she got up and put her book on the coffee table before tossing some Floo powder into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames that sprung up.

'Twelve Grimmauld Place,' she said clearly before being sucked into the Floo network.

She landed on her feet at the other end, and brushed off the light dusting of soot that had settled on the fabric of her. She walked from the sitting room down to the kitchen and found her two best friends sitting at the table drinking coffee, eating scones and reading the paper.

'Hi there, you two,' she said, wandering over to sit beside Harry.

Harry smiled at her, leaning over to embrace her. 'You're looking well, Hermione,' he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. 'Really, all that time you've been spending working with Snape is doing you some good.'

She ducked her head a little at the mention of Snape, feeling her blush creep up her neck to her cheeks. Ever since Friday night, every time she thought of their dinner together, she had been unable to stop flushing or becoming confused. It was better that her friends didn't know about this. It wouldn't do for them to become concerned that Snape was taking advantage of her when he wasn't, and she knew Harry and how he was prone to jumping to conclusions.

'It has been hard work, but he's been very fair, and making me eat at least three meals a day,' she replied with a small smile once she had gotten her capillary reaction under control. 'All we do pretty much the whole day is brew potions and drink tea.'

'I thought you were supposed to be helping him with some big project?' Harry said, looking confused.

'I will be, starting tomorrow,' she replied. 'But Snape didn't want me working with him on something important until I started to get more rest and energy. I had to build myself up to it.'

'He is treating you well, isn't he?' he demanded seriously.

Before Hermione could reply, however, Luna reached across the table and grasped Harry's hand, drawing his attention to her.

'Severus Snape is a good and honourable man, Harry Potter,' she scolded lightly, offering Hermione a small, apologetic smile.

'Luna is right,' she said quietly. 'He is decent, even if he's not the most pleasant or charming fellow around. He's done his best to make up for his worst.'

'All right,' Harry said, throwing his hands up in defeat. 'I'll take your word for it. Snape's a saint. Just don't expect me to become best mates with him, that's all I'm saying.'

Hermione nodded in understanding. Just because she and Luna had come to a truce of sorts with Snape, didn't mean that Harry and Ron would follow suit so easily. She was afraid that the little tug around her chest, and the dryness of her mouth when she saw Snape, was something she needed to stamp down on before it developed into something dangerous, and most likely, unreciprocated on Snape's part.

At around midday, the three sat around the dining room table and ate pasta salad, and roasted jacket spuds filled with bacon, cheese, spring onion, sour cream and sweet chilli sauce. Hermione was having such a good time with her friends that she barely even noticed the niggling in the back of her mind – the voice that scolded her for having such a good time when there were plenty of others who never lived long enough to so the same. When she was alone, it nagged at the forefront of her brain. That day, however, she was not going to let it get to her.

After lunch the three of them played a few games of cards before they heard the Floo activate in the sitting room. Harry excused himself from the table and went to investigate, and came back a few minutes later with Ron in tow.

'Look what the cat dragged in,' Harry announced as Ron dropped carelessly into the chair beside Hermione.

'I didn't know we had a cat,' Luna said, looking up at her partner with a confused expression.

'We don't, Luna,' Harry said with a chuckle. 'It's just an expression that I like to use when referring to Ron.'

'Oh!' she exclaimed, shrugging it off as though it were nothing.

Hermione offered her a small smile, and they began a new card game, including Ron in the hand this time. They continued on into the afternoon, the bets getting rather a lot more ridiculous each time. By the time four o'clock came around though, Hermione was exhausted, and wanted to go home and get to sleep as early as her body would allow with the aid of Dreamless Sleep, so that the next day she would be ready to tackle Snape and his potions project.

She stood from the table, smiling at her friends apologetically. 'I thinking I am going to have to call it a day,' she said, walking around the table so she could hug Luna around the shoulders. 'Thanks for the delicious lunch, Luna.'

'You're welcome,' she said, smiling up at her brightly. 'I hope we see you again soon, Hermione.'

Harry and Ron both stood and followed her to the sitting room to say their goodbyes there. Ron stepped up and gave her a massive hug, enveloping her in his long, muscly arms.

'It was good to see you, 'Mione,' he said when he pulled back, flashing her a charming, Weasley grin. 'I wish we could catch up more while you're on holiday from school.'

'I will do my best to make time for you guys,' she promised, not even sure if she'd be able to keep it, but hoping that she would.

'See you, later, Hermione,' Harry said, kissing her cheek.

Hermione waved and tossed some Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepping into the green flames and calling out her address. She arrived in her flat and sat down in her armchair, curling up and opening her book where she had left it off. She stared for a while at the empty fireplace when she found that her reading was going nowhere, and eventually shut the book, putting it back on the coffee table, and wandering down the hall to her bedroom.

She went to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, pulling out the measuring glass for her dosage of the potion. She carefully measured out her Dreamless Sleep, and at the last second, decided to cut back another grade, pouring less than she was supposed to. Hoping that it would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay, she swallowed it in one go, cringing a little at the taste, and rinsed the glass out before replacing it in the cabinet.

Feeling tired, she changed into her pyjamas and wormed her way beneath the covers before summoning her book to her wandlessly.

When she caught it, she realised that she had unconsciously performed wandless magic for the first time in over a year. She felt a rush of happiness course through her, and she smiled contentedly, sitting back against her pillows so that she could read until she fell asleep. She paused for a moment when opening the book and congratulated herself inwardly for becoming strong enough to do wandless casting again. It was a skill that she had always found useful, and tomorrow when she saw Snape, she would be able to relay her progress to him. She really hoped he would be proud of how far she'd come.

After that, she was ready to read, and by the time she got most of the way through the second chapter of _Little Women_, she was feeling warm and sleepy, but not quite tired enough to go straight off to sleep.

She clambered out of bed and went to the kitchen, making herself a mug of decaffeinated tea and two pieces of toast with jam, and carried it all back to bed with her to munch on while she continued to read. Long after she had finished her tea and snack, she was still awake, and half-way through the book, but her eyelids were drifting shut.

She put the book on the nightstand with a marker holding her page, and surprised herself once more by wandlessly banishing her dirty mug and plate to the sink. Settling down beneath the covers, Hermione finally allowed herself to close her eyes, breathing in and out slowly. Despite the huge amounts of time she had been given to spend on her own that weekend, she didn't feel as though she had been dwelling too much on the past.

Pleased, she forced herself to stop thinking and was soon fast asleep, with no images or nightmares to prevent her from a peaceful slumber.

* * *

To be continued.


	10. Chapter 10: Ambiguity

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

* * *

_Ambiguity, defined as the quality or state of being ambiguous; doubtfulness or uncertainty, particularly as to the signification of language, arising from its admitting of more than one meaning; an equivocal word or expression"__._

* * *

It was a little before nine in the morning when Snape heard the crack of Apparation directly into his front hallway from his position in the kitchen.

That morning, he had prepared crumpets and jam along with two strong mugs of black coffee. He wasn't sure how Granger took her coffee, but he had left room in the top for her to add milk if that was how she preferred it. Her footsteps, however light they were, carried up the hall, and she was upon him before he had even had a chance to put everything out on the table.

He was as nervous as a cat and he was fairly certain it had everything to do with the pleasant dinner they had shared right before the weekend. He didn't know when he had had become so comfortable around her. For all of his bluster then, however, he was a mess of nerves now in the light of his actions. He couldn't believe how familiar he had acted with her, acting like a close friend when he was certain she did not consider him to be one.

'Good morning!' she greeted brightly, a smile already on her face.

Snape took note of her drastically improved colouring. It appeared she had stuck true to her word and had been eating regular meals. She was still skinny, but at least she wasn't as horribly gaunt as she had been. This pleased him. Even the dark circles around her eyes were slightly less pronounced. He was thankful that she had gotten some sleep the night before, as he certainly had not. If there were any fault of his that he hated above all the others, it was his inability to switch off.

It was perhaps, one of the reasons why; he'd never been able to maintain relationships. Women did not want a man who would immerse himself so much in his work that they were left ignored. And women most certainly did not fall for men who had been snarky and rude to them all the way through school. For those two reasons alone, Severus Snape was not likely to attract the attention of any females.

'Good morning, Miss Granger,' he replied, leading her over to the kitchen table and gently urging her down into one of the chairs.

'Smells good,' she said, offering him a shy smile.

'It's just buttered crumpets,' Snape said, taking the seat across from her and serving himself a crumpet and slathering blueberry jam on it.

'I haven't had crumpets for years!' she exclaimed, taking one for herself and helping herself to a healthy spoonful of jam.

'You are looking much healthier this week,' he commented as he ate. 'How did you go with your Dreamless Sleep dosages over the weekend?'

'I successfully managed to reduce my dosage by two grades over the weekend, and I have high hopes to reduce it by at least one more grade by the end of the week,' she replied with a proud smile, picking up her crumpet and biting into it. 'I also surprised myself a little over the weekend by performing wandless magic again last night for the first time in… well, lets just say it's been a while.'

'That is excellent news,' Snape said, surprised at her progress. Perhaps it would be easier to rid her of her addiction than he thought it would be.

They finished the remainder of their breakfast in silence, and although he had the newspaper spread out in front of him, Snape continued to sneak covert glances at Granger. He was unable to fathom how she had managed to come so far over just two weeks. It pleased him though, to know that her inexplicable desire to prove herself was driving her to work harder at giving up her drug, all for the sake of impressing him of all people. He considered himself the last person who she needed to impress, as he was as bad as she had been once – worse if anything.

Snape sent Granger down to the lab to begin preparing the bench for brewing while he cleaned up in the kitchen. To be honest, it was a relief to send her down there. He needed space to think. These days, every time he thought about Hermione Granger, he only came away irritated and confused. If he had not gone to her bloody flat for dinner the week before, none of this would have presented a problem. Or at least, it could have been delayed a while longer.

He finished up in the kitchen quickly, and headed straight to the lab, walking in to find Granger had set everything up and was already working on the base for the last of the medicinal potions on the list. He had meant to complete the remaining ones on the weekend before she arrived, but had been unmotivated and had left the final one – the Draught of Living Death, untouched.

'I could do that one after you leave today if you'd rather crack on with my project?' he offered, coming up to stand beside her.

'I can actually make this potion in my sleep,' she said with a small grin. 'My first attempt at this when I was a student under Professor Slughorn, was probably my biggest failure in potions to date. Needless to say, I have improved at making it greatly since then. It was in the practical section of my potions final last term.'

'I see,' he said, quietly impressed. It was a difficult potion even for some who had already achieved the title of Master Potioneer.

'If you want to talk to me about the project, I would be happy to listen while I make this,' she said simply, sprinkling crushed, dried fig leaves into the brew and stirring clockwise.

Snape crooked an eyebrow at her but did not respond. He simply sat on a stool nearby, and summoned his journal and books to him, opening up the thick tome before him to the point where he had begun serious research for the potion. Reading over it, he decided to go along with her plan and simply tell her about his research.

'I began this research with no clear direction, simply experimenting with ingredients that were often used to stimulate the brain and restore the usage of the memory centres,' he began. 'After that, I decided that I needed to find a clear direction, and so, I chose to focus my attention on creating a potion to restore memories to those who have had them obliviated.'

'You mean… a potion to cure my parents?' she asked, standing there numbly, staring at him with her mouth slightly agape.

'Them among others,' he replied. 'Over the course of the war, there were quite a few people who were affected by the loss of their memories from an _Obliviate_. Some were victims of dark intentions, and others accidents. Some were from people just like you – just wanting to keep their non-magical families safe. If you recall, Gilderoy Lockhart was a victim of his own stupidity, but he too would be positively affected by the creation of such a potion.'

'Would it be useful for Neville Longbottom's parents?' she asked, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

He almost smirked at that. She was still the same old Granger underneath all of the insecurity and depression. ' I think that the kind of potion that type of injury would require, is still a little out of our reach for now,' he answered. 'For now, it is this potion that we shall work on, and leave it open later to investigate the possibility for a potion to reverse the effects of torture by _Cruciatus_.'

She nodded, but did not seem at all deterred. In fact, she appeared to be as pleased as he had hoped she would be after hearing about his project. Snape was inwardly pleased by the knowledge that he was not just put on the earth to be a pawn in the Dark Lord's army, or Dumbledore's either for that matter. He nodded at Granger and looked back down at his journal then, trying not to dwell on the girl within his own mind too much.

'So, what have you discovered so far with all of your researching?' she asked, causing him to look up at her from his work.

'Before I started doing serious research, I had dabbled a little with potion bases that contained important ingredients that target the mind and stimulating memories,' he said, flipping through his journal to where he had recorded the results. 'I found two promising bases there, and have since looked into other ingredients that we could use to incorporate into with those bases.'

'I would be fascinated to take a look at what you've found so far, once this potion needs to simmer,' she said.

'Very well,' Snape replied.

They continued with their work in silence for a while. Snape kept throwing covert glances in her direction, and he could tell that she was doing the same to him. He was not certain any more what he feelings towards Granger were. It was an ambiguity – an uncertainty that was preventing him from being able to concentrate. He did not know what to do in a situation such as this, and constantly tried to ignore it rather than analyse and think about it if he could help it.

He was uncomfortable thinking about the romantic sort of human interaction, as he'd had so little experience being sociable. Hell, he'd only ever been in love once in his life, and it had been such a long time ago, he could barely even remember the reasons why he had been in love with Lily Potter in the first place. She had been pretty, that was for sure, but aside from that and generally being a nice, relatively talented witch, she was no different from a million other witches in the world.

From what he could recall, Lily Potter had been so unremarkable, that he had found her to be interesting, and when James Potter had started to show an interest in her, that had simply fuelled his desire to compete for her affections.

He gave himself a mental shake. Why was he even thinking about romantic entanglements and interaction at all? Well Granger was attractive, now that she was starting to look less gaunt. And she was a kindred spirit in terms of both their intelligence and their desperate desire to prove themselves useful in more ways that those that were predetermined for them. She would not be such a terrible partner…

Snape shook his head. No. He could not think about Granger in that way. For a start, she was nearly twenty years his junior. And secondly, there was not a hope in seven hells that she would reciprocate, were he to feel such a foolish inclination. He looked back up at her and watched as she concentrated on her work. She had her hair tucked behind her ears, and her brow was furrowed in concentration. She was biting her lower lip in that way he had noticed she often did when she was particularly busy brewing.

Twenty minutes later, she walked over to him after she lowered the flame beneath her cauldron and joined him at the bench, sitting right beside him. He looked at her, and was surprised that she was staring at him, rather than looking at his research.

She blushed and averted her eyes immediately. 'This looks promising,' she said, pointing at his notes.

'I have been doing a lot of research on gotu kola, ginkgo biloba, and brahmi,' he said, flipping to the earlier pages of his journal. 'Those are the ones I used for the bases, and there is more research here that describes their properties better, and also show what ingredients do not combine well with them.'

'I think that we'll need to come up with a comprehensive list of ingredients that will both combine with and enhance the properties of those three,' she said, sounding final.

Snape quirked an eyebrow at her comment. She shrugged at him and turned back to read his journal. Snape shook his head. He had no idea what he was going to do with Hermione Granger yet again.

* * *

To be continued.


	11. Chapter 11: Attraction

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

A big thank you to lyn_f for her help with this chapter.

_i__ Attraction, by definition the quality of arousing interest; being attractive or something that attracts; "her personality held a strange attraction for him"__./i_

After pacing back and forth in her apartment for several hours, Hermione knew for certain then that she was beginning to go mad.

At first she hadn't been certain, but now there was not a doubt in her mind. She knew her drug addiction would usually lead to her beginning to go mad. But by this point she came to see it as more of a part of her everyday life. The new conundrum that was at the forefront of her mind was something very different.

It was Severus Snape who was driving her mad. Her feelings where he was concerned were muddled and confused. Ever since she had begun working with Snape a month before, she had come to view him in a different light. But over the past week, things had become even more awkward between the two of them. It was all because of that dinner. Ever since they had dinner that night in her flat and gotten along so well, Hermione had been unable to think of anyone else whenever she had a free moment.

And she knew that Snape was feeling awkward too because no matter how indifferent and polite he tried to act, she had witnessed a few frowns and moments where he stared off into nothing while they were working. She had even caught him staring at her occasionally. Hermione was almost certain he had noticed her staring at him, which had embarrassed her greatly.

She had barely slept the night before and had not managed to reduce the dosage for Dreamless Sleep yet that week from the overthinking she had been doing and her general inability to sleep. It seemed to her these days that she was unable to sleep or stop thinking every time she was about to have an emotional breakdown. She wasn't sure how close she was to having one at that point, but it loomed, an ever-grey shadow, in the future.

She walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of juice before returning to her living room to check the time.

It was almost time for her to leave for Snape's house. They were going to begin testing on ingredients that day, and she didn't want to miss out on a second of it, no matter how awkward things were between them. She quickly swallowed her juice and rinsed the glass in the sink, leaving it there to wash when she returned home later. As she was grabbing her robe, she paused to make sure she had her wand with her before Apparating to Snape's front entry hall.

She could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen, and she knew immediately that her mentor was cooking something for breakfast. She couldn't remember there ever being a time before she had started working with him that she had enjoyed eating food as much. She assumed the reason she never wanted to eat was because she was sleep deprived, and perhaps it was. But the other, more likely reason was that she had never had someone around who would so willingly cook food for her to eat. And in credit to Snape, he was a great cook.

The food and all the attention he paid to her health were other reasons that she was feeling uncertain about where she stood with Snape.

Shaking the thought off, she continued into the kitchen and found Snape with his back to her, facing the stove and using the egg-flip. She took a moment to look at him. He was tall, slender, had a decent musculature for a man his age, his black hair was clean and long, falling down to the bottom of his shoulder blades, and his body formed the perfect triangle; broad shoulders, trim waist and a nice pert bum at the bottom.

She wanted to slap herself. She could not believe she was checking out Snape from behind when she had been trying so hard not to overthink the entire situation. Sighing, she walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder lightly. He turned only just slightly, looking at her over his shoulder.

'Blueberry hotcakes,' he mumbled.

She smiled. He had obviously not had his coffee yet that morning. Snape was never really verbose until after he'd had his morning cup. She walked over to the French press that was already set up, filled it with hot water, pushed the plunger down, and watched as the brown liquid became so dark it was almost black. She poured both of them a mug and walked over to him, placing the mug on the bench beside him.

'Blueberry hotcakes sounds divine,' she replied. 'They smell divine too. Maple syrup?'

'And there are roasted walnuts too,' he replied after taking a mouthful of hot coffee. 'On the table with the syrup.'

'Why have you gone to so much effort this morning? I would have been happy with tea and toast,' she said, walking over to sit down at the table.

She watched as Snape's shoulders moved up and down in a shrug. 'I woke this morning, and the idea of having blueberry hotcakes came into my mind and I was unable to shake the thought,' he said simply. 'I thought that you might like them also.'

'I've never had them,' she answered.

'They are a variation on pancakes, only smaller in size and called hotcakes,' he explained. 'They are much nicer. I find the over-large pancakes are far too doughy in texture.'

Hermione nodded and watched Snape as she waited for him to bring their breakfast to the table. She couldn't quite remember when she had more or less expected that he would be making breakfast for both of them every morning, but now that she was thinking about it, she felt a little presumptuous. Had she been taking advantage of his hospitality for an unacceptably long time? She felt nervousness and guilt settle in the pit of her stomach.

'Breakfast is served!' Snape announced, placing a plate in front of her that had four small, round hotcakes dusted with icing sugar sitting in the middle.

She smiled at Snape across from her as she reached for the bowl of walnuts. 'Thank you for this wonderful meal,' she said, scattering a spoonful of the chopped nuts onto her hotcakes.

'You're welcome,' he replied, pushing the maple syrup towards her and relieving her of the bowl of walnuts to serve himself.

They ate in relative silence until finally, Hermione decided to pipe up, her guilt beginning to make her feel uncomfortable.

'I feel a little like I've been taking advantage of you for too long,' she said, looking over at the man across from her. 'You've been making me breakfast and lunch nearly every day for more than four weeks now. I've only invited you for dinner once, and you practically cooked the entire meal.'

He looked up from his newspaper and crooked an eyebrow at her. 'You did nearly all of my brewing for the Hogwarts infirmary, and you are helping me with my current potions project, and you still feel as though you aren't pulling your weight?' he asked. 'Let me try and understand this. You feel guilty for me feeding you in return for your assistance during your summer holiday?'

She felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 'Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it doesn't really make sense for me to feel guilty,' she mumbled.

'Of course it doesn't,' he said with a note of finality. 'Now, if you are quite done with being irrational, I would be grateful if you'd finish up your breakfast with some haste. We have some experimenting to do today, and the sooner we get started, the better.'

Hermione nodded, glancing up at him through her lashes. He had returned to reading his newspaper while eating, giving her ample opportunity to stare at him covertly a little longer as she thought about her conundrum and what she was going to do about her strange feelings for Snape.

Soon enough, they finished their breakfast and cleaned the kitchen together before heading down to the lab. Snape immediately went to the storeroom to collect ingredients while Hermione busied herself with the task of setting up their work station with chopping boards, knives, cauldrons, a mortar and pestle, and stirring rods. Snape brought over the ingredients and set the cauldrons up over the flames with water halfway to the top in five of them.

'Today I thought we would focus on the gingko biloba and the ingredients we researched would combine well with it. If you would pulverise some red peppercorns to a fine powder, I will begin slicing taro root and lemongrass for the brew,' he instructed.

Hermione immediately complied with his instructions, and using the mortar and pestle, she pounded away on the red peppercorns while she allowed herself to gaze at the other side of the room aimlessly. She glanced at Snape, watching as he focussed intensely on his work, making sure every slice was even so that the ingredients would all blend into the rest of the potion at the same rate for the sake of consistency. She was constantly amazed at his level of focus and even found herself entranced with him when he had that serious-looking expression on his face.

She found that wrinkle from the way his brow creased when he frowned was not off-putting. He was handsome in an unconventional way – a way that most of her former schoolmates would have laughed at her for thinking. Not to mention her close friends and their families. Likely someone would try to pack her off to St. Mungo's for a mental evaluation. Even Harry and Luna, who had been so understanding of her problems and Snape's involvement in her life at present, might find it hard to accept.

She blinked and tried to turn her concentration back to her work, only to find Snape staring at her with a look of contemplation creasing his brow.

He averted his gaze when he realised she'd caught him staring. She was beginning to feel like they were at Hogwarts again, the way the two of them were acting like shy teenagers around each other. She just couldn't help how nervous she felt about potentially being attracted to Snape. She balked inwardly. Attracted to Snape? Was that really what all of these mixed feelings were? She pounded the pepper more firmly in response to that thought, determined not to examine it too much further while in Snape's presence.

'You may add the pepper to the brew, Granger,' he said gruffly.

Hermione was slightly startled by his sudden comment, but hurried to comply, carefully measuring in three tablespoons of the pepper into the potion before disposing of the rest with a quick wave of her wand. Snape hurried to step up beside her and used a metal stirring rod to stir the potion counter-clockwise fifteen times exactly before withdrawing the rod and cleaning it.

He brought the sliced root and lemongrass over and added both in successions before stirring it into the potion also and lowering the temperature.

'This will be our base for the potion,' Snape said when he sat on one of the stools beside the potion simmering away on the bench. 'In a short while we will prepare the gingko biloba and lime juice and rind to add to the potion. There are a few other things that we'll need to get a hold of over the next couple of days from the apothecary that I don't have on hand.'

'I can stop by the Apothecary before I come here tomorrow,' she offered.

Snape shook his head simply, indicating for her to sit with a tilt of his chin. 'There are a few items I have had to place on order, and I'm afraid that I will have to pick them up and sign for them myself,' he replied. 'We could be make a trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow after breakfast.'

'Alright,' she agreed.

They wrote notes together in silence until lunch. Hermione decided to leave early for the day. She needed to do some thinking on her own about Snape.

To be continued.


	12. Chapter 12: Ambivalent

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

A big thank you to lyn_f for the quick beta of this chapter.

* * *

_Ambivalent, by definition, is being uncertain or unable to decide about what course to follow; "was ambivalent about having children "__._

* * *

The soft bubbling noise emitted by the potion was the only sound in the dank cellar that served as Snape's lab.

He was unable to keep his mind focussed on his brewing yet again. He was in the middle of making a headache potion for the shard pains in the back of his skull. It was a simple enough potion to make ordinarily, but in his current state of distraction, he was finding the brewing difficult. He had finally managed to get it to the simmering stage so he could sit down and ponder his predicament for a while until it reached the next stage.

His mind wandered to thoughts of Granger. She was one of the few things that he was simply unable to stop thinking about. And the worst thing was that she had caught him staring at her curiously a few times too many for his liking. It didn't matter that he had caught her staring at him a time or two or that their behaviour around each another had become a little awkward and conversation was stilted. What did matter was the overwhelming sense of guilt he felt for being attracted to a woman who was far too young and unjaded for one such as he.

This thought then led to the main reason he was so distracted – he was attracted to Hermione Granger.

His uncertainty with what to do in this situation was beginning to give him a headache. Snape knew he was too old for her, not nearly attractive enough to even be considered passable, and had a black mark on his name, making him a target for people of ill repute and the media. The last thing a girl in Granger's delicate state of mind needed was the media hounding her for being around someone like him or getting mixed up with the kind of crowd who would encourage her addiction rather than try to help her shake it.

As far as Snape was concerned, there were only a few options available to him at this time. And he was unable to make a decision on it.

He shook his head and took a moment to glance at his pocket watch, surprised to find that it was almost nine in the morning. Granger would be there at any moment, and he had yet to finish brewing his potion, and he had not even been in the kitchen since he'd been up that morning. Cursing, he put his potion on stasis and hurried up the stairs, making a beeline for the kitchen. He switched on the stove and put on a kettle of water – they would have to settle for tea that morning, as his coffee took a lot longer to brew.

He was just getting the fixings for bacon and eggs out of the fridge when he heard a crack of Apparation coming from the entry hall, followed by footsteps walking towards the kitchen. Soon enough, Granger walked into the kitchen just as he was placing a large frying pan on the stove to begin cooking.

'Good morning,' she greeted with a soft yawn. 'It doesn't really smell of anything in here this morning. Did you do some cleaning?'

'Your confusion is most likely due to the fact that you've never been in my kitchen when I have not already been preparing some sort of food,' he replied, laying a few strips of bacon for each of them into the pan. 'If you would be so kind as to prepare the tea, I will continue making breakfast.'

He didn't say anything else, but assumed she moved to comply with his instructions when she pulled out the big teapot from the top cupboard along with the tea leaves and mugs. She also set the table with their plates and cutlery while she waited for the tea to steep in the pot. By the time she had completed the tea, he had finished cooking both their bacon and eggs and went to serve it up on the prepared plates.

The two of them sat down to break their fast, both of them silent. After a while, however, it began to drive Snape slightly barmy, and so he cracked and addressed her.

'I was doing some more research into gingko biloba and discovered that there are a few properties that are more harmful to women than men. It occurred to me that we have yet to configure how much of the plant we shall need to add to the potion and whether the amount should vary based on the subject,' he said, trying to sound serious.

'Perhaps it's not a question of how much of the plant is used per subject, but the size of the dosage?' she offered. 'The whole idea of tailoring each potion individually to each subject seems unnecessarily exhaustive.'

Snape chewed his mouthful of food before swallowing and nodding. 'I agree that it would indeed be tedious. It will all depend on how well we are able to combine the other ingredients and whether this will affect the potency of the gingko biloba and how efficiently it works in the potion.'

'I think it would be easier simply to adjust the dosage after the potion has been completed according to their overall muscle to fat ratio and weight,' Hermione said after a moment of thought. 'That way, when we're considering the dosage for each person, we can calculate on a case-to-case basis. This should neutralise the potential for an over-dose.'

He nodded, feeling a sudden surge of pride for the young woman in front of him. She was something else, really. Her mind was as sharp as it had ever been, and he found himself glad that he had brought her on as a partner in this project of his. If it weren't for the problem of his attraction to her, he would likely be the happiest researcher in existence.

'Well, I shall run through the calculations after we finish breakfast,' he said finally, picking up his crispy bacon and taking a bite. 'By this afternoon we should know whether this is a viable option and we'll continue brewing the potion with the added ginko biloba.'

'What would you like me to do this morning?' she asked, picking up her own bacon and taking a bite.

Snape found himself momentarily distracted by the sight of the bacon between her perfect lips, but shook himself lightly and looked up into her eyes instead. 'If you would, Madam Pomfrey sent me an owl yesterday evening requesting another batch of _Skele-Gro_. It shouldn't take more than a few hours.'

She nodded, and the two of them quickly finished the remainder of their breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen. They adjourned to the lab, and Snape immediately sat at the end of the bench so he could run through his calculations. If anyone had told him that he would have to do so much Arithmantic work with his potions, he would have paid better attention during Arithmancy in his school years. People thought he was some sort of genius, but all they had to do was step into his lab while he was conducting experiments to see that Arithmancy was not his strongest subject.

People often mistook his thoroughness for brilliance when really, all that he did was work at it until he was certain that it was correct.

He gazed up to where Hermione was beginning to pull out the ingredients for the potion she was working on. Her cauldron was already set up over the Bunsen burner, and she had her chopping board and the mortar and pestle ready to go. She returned from the storeroom with her arms laden with ingredients in jars and labelled packets. He watched as she carefully and methodically prepared each of the ingredients, his own calculations pushed momentarily to the side.

She was very good, and not to smoke his own pipe, but Snape rather thought that her manner with potions could rather be his influence from her school days.

He could not, however, take credit for her natural affinity towards Arithmancy. She had a sound, logical mind, and it was a credit to her. She might not be a natural at making potions as he was, but she was damned good with calculations and using those to determine what should be used in potion making. This, perhaps, was the reason they had been so good working together thus far. His natural abilities and hers combined together created a fluid performance.

He turned his eyes back down to the page and tried to refocus. He needed to stop trying to compare them favourably. Each time he did, it simply made it more difficult to prevent himself from looking at her or thinking about her. He couldn't afford to be attracted to the woman standing across the room from him. She was good and nice and had better people skills than he did, even on a good day. He would only bring trouble and scorn to her life.

He looked back over at Hermione. She seemed to be filling out where her cheeks had once been so gaunt she was almost skeletal. There was colour in her face, her hair was healthier and there was a sparkle in her eyes that had been missing when he had taken her on as his assistant. She was much improved, and he assumed that going home after a full day of work was making her just tired enough to get to sleep without having to ingest too much Dreamless Sleep. He had been noting her progress as she reported it to him and was impressed by how many levels she had managed to reduce her intake by so far.

'You seem distracted today,' Granger's voice said, luring him out of his thoughts.

He focussed his attention on her face and nodded. 'Perhaps I could have done with a little more sleep myself last night,' he said warily, unwilling to give himself away.

She chuckled. 'The last thing I need right now is a sleep-deprived Potions master directing my drug recovery,' she said jokingly with a smile.

He smirked and shook his head. 'The last thing you need at the moment is for me to start taking Dreamless Sleep in order to get a few more hours of sleep,' he replied. 'I'd sooner be tired than hinder your recovery that way.'

She blushed and lowered her head slightly, turning her attention back to the potion she was working on. 'I know I've been something of a burden to you these past six weeks,' she whispered.

'You have not,' he said firmly. 'If I am honest, you have been a valuable assistant in the production of the potions for Hogwarts and in my project.'

She looked up at him, her jaw slack and mouth gaping open.

'Don't look at me like that,' he said, shifting on his stool uncomfortably. 'And close your mouth. You're not a fish.'

Her eyes narrowed at him, and she sniffed in annoyance before looking away from him. He smirked and lowered his eyes back to the journal, continuing his work in silence. At one o'clock in the afternoon, she left her potion to simmer after spending the past thirty minutes straight stirring it continuously. He watched her leave the room after she indicated that she would be making their lunch, much to his surprise. Ten minutes later she returned with a plate of ham and chutney sandwiches and sat down on the stool beside him.

'Thank you,' he said, picking one up and munching on it.

She smiled at him and picked up his quill, leaning past him to look at the formula he was working on. She quickly scribbled down something, making a change. Snape looked at the note she made and frowned. How on earth had she figured that out so fast? He looked up at her questioningly, but she simply smiled, shrugged and took a bite of her sandwich.

'You are always a surprise to me, Hermione Granger,' he said with a small smile.

'You always underestimate me, Severus Snape,' she replied.

'Clearly,' he said.

Her smile at his admittance was something beautiful to behold.

* * *

To be continued.


	13. Chapter 13: Amazement

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to Lyn_f for the beta of this chapter.

* * *

_Amazement, by definition, is the condition of being amazed; bewilderment, overwhelming wonder, as from surprise, sudden fear, horror, or admiration._

* * *

The liquid sat in the measuring glass, shimmering and crystal blue. Hermione smiled as she picked the glass up and tipped the potion into her mouth and swallowed.

She had managed to reduce her Dreamless Sleep dosage by more than half over the past few weeks. She had been working with Snape for coming up to seven weeks now, and she had never felt better in her life. She still occasionally experienced nightmares on the weekends when she was not so tired from working with Snape that she passed out as soon as she took her potion in the evening. She knew that all of the progress she had made could somehow be traced back to the Potions master.

Hermione flushed. Thoughts about Snape often led to her over-sympathetic nervous system filling her cheeks with colour. She shook her head, cursing her own stupidity. Why was it that she always seemed to fall for the person least likely to return her feelings? It had been that way in her fourth year at Hogwarts with Viktor Krum, who had only befriended her for her brain, and even Ron, who had taken so long to realise he had feelings for her that she had long fallen out of love with him by the time he confessed.

And now, she was attracted to Severus Snape. And he was miles out of her league—the most unattainable of all the men she had fancied.

Sighing heavily, she went through the motions of brushing her teeth and scrubbing her face before walking back to her bedroom and slipping into bed. She placed her wand on her bedside table and made certain to set her alarm. When she was settled, she picked up the book off the nightstand and opened it to the last page she was reading. After a few minutes, she felt her eyes begin to droop, and she closed the book after marking her page again.

Yawning, she shut the light of with a wave of her hand and shuffled to lie down and fell into a comfortable sleep.

The beeping of her alarm woke Hermione at half-seven in the morning. She stretched her arm out and switched it off, taking a deep breath before rolling out of bed. She stretched, still feeling a little tired. She had a few moments during the night where a bad dream had crept up on her, but it had passed, and she had managed to get back to a reasonably restful sleep after that. Rubbing her eyes blearily, she walked to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face. When she felt more awake, she went out to the kitchen and poured a glass of pumpkin juice and took it back with her to her bedroom.

She changed out of her pyjamas and pulled a black button-down shirt on with a pair of green khaki shorts. She pulled on a pair of ankle socks and her black converse. The papers had predicted a hot day, and she knew for a fact that the lab at Snape's house was going to be at least twice as humid.

She finished off her juice and went to the bathroom, brushing her curly locks and pulling all of her hair back into a simple braid.

Satisfied that she was ready for the day, she took her glass to the kitchen and cast a cleansing charm on it before walking back to the sitting room and checking the clock. It was only half-eight, and she was already ready to go to Snape's house. Grumbling in frustration, she sat down in her armchair and summoned the book from her nightstand to read while she waited.

At ten minutes to nine, she put her book down again and decided to simply Apparate over to Snape's house anyway. She made sure her flat was locked and warded before she left with nary a 'pop' to indicate she had Apparated. She reappeared in his front hallway and walked the short distance from there to the kitchen in the back of the house. Snape was plating up their egg white omelettes as she walked in, and she smiled when she inhaled the smell.

'Smells great!' she exclaimed, walking over to him and taking their plates over to the table, which he had already set.

The corner of Snape's mouth lifted in a quasi-smile, and he accepted a mug of the black coffee she poured from the jug he had steeping on the kitchen bench. The two of them wordlessly returned to the table and took their respective seats, beginning to eat the food he had prepared. Hermione smiled after taking her first bite. It was filled with mushrooms and chives and a mild, creamy cheese that she couldn't quite remember the name of.

'Honestly, Severus, you make the best breakfast,' she said, and watched as his cheeks were immediately stained with colour.

He kept his eyes on his plate and mumbled a quick 'Very good' in response.

She shook her head, but inwardly, marvelled at how the colour on his cheeks made his complexion seem even more pale than normal. Hermione knew exactly, in that moment, why it was that she was attracted to Snape, and it had very little to do with the fact that he made her breakfast nearly every morning. He was an intelligent, meticulous, but most of all, the most unassuming person she had ever met. Even though she was sure the man had been told that he was brilliant on more than one occasion, he never let it go to his head and still had the graciousness to feel bashful when he was complimented. He complemented her own fastidious personality in a way that nobody else had managed to before.

And it was for that same reason, that she knew they it was unlikely they would ever be together.

Great men, like Severus Snape, always managed to fall for women who were entirely inappropriate for them. Or they simply did not fall in love at all. Either way, she knew that she would have to get over her silly crush and move on or risk her feelings being unrequited. She'd had quite enough of those sorts of feelings for one lifetime. All of her romances had begun and ended in a similar fashion. She was simply unlucky in love, as the saying went.

'So, what is in the cards for today?' she asked, setting down her cutlery after she finished eating her meal.

Snape mimicked her actions and stood to collect their empty dishes. 'We're going to Diagon Alley this morning to collect some ingredients I have ordered from the Apothecary,' he answered as they cleared the table.

'Really?' Hermione exclaimed in surprise.

Snape smirked at her as he began to wash the dishes by hand in the sink. 'Well, we do have to get a few things for our potion, but it would also be helpful for you to know how particular I am about the ingredients that I use so that in future, if need be, I might be able to send you to collect ingredients without my assistance,' he explained.

'Oh,' she said a little breathlessly. 'Well, that's sort of a compliment to me, isn't it? You trust me enough to show me these things.'

'Indeed,' Snape said, quirking an eyebrow at her.

They quickly finished up in the kitchen before heading to the front entry hall where Snape retrieved his frock coat, buttoned it all the way up, and pulled his black robes on over it. He paused, staring at her attire with a frown, which made Hermione look down at herself nervously.

'Oh,' she said softly. 'I can head home and grab a robe.'

Snape nodded in approval.

Hermione quickly Apparated to her flat and grabbed her plain black robes from the coat hooks by her front door. Glancing down, she decided that her shorts were a little too casual for going out in public. Without giving it too much thought, she went to her room and exchanged the shorts for a pair of white jeans and slid a pair of black ballet slippers onto her feet. Satisfied that she was presentable enough for Diagon Alley, she checked her wards again before Apparating back to Snape's house. He was still waiting patiently for her in his front hallway, his arms folded across his chest.

'How is this?' she said, spinning around so he had a chance to see her attire properly.

'Acceptable,' he replied curtly, but something in his eyes belied his tone.

She followed Snape into the sitting room, where they both grabbed a handful of Floo powder each and stepped up to Floo through to Diagon Alley. Snape gestured for her to go first. She wordlessly stepped up to the fireplace and stepped inside, tossing the powder and calling out her destination. She stepped out on the other end and dusted herself off, looking around the shop she stood in. She saw lines of shelves that presumably held potions ingredients, and a register with an old man sitting behind the counter at the front of the shop.

She heard a whoosh come from behind her and watched as Snape stepped gracefully out of the fireplace. How was it that he managed to avoid getting soot on him? She sighed heavily and shook her head, stepping aside so that he had more room to pass her and lead their way through the shop. He strode past her and she followed him down the first aisle to their right.

'We shall require several bunches of the ginkgo biloba, as well as red algae and some high-quality red peppercorn. I had to place an order for the ginkgo biloba, so we shall collect that on our way out; however, I will also need to restock on kaffir lime, dittany, wormwood, dark forest mushrooms, and horn of bicorn,' he said, listing everything off on his fingers.

'I suppose you only want the freshest ingredients?'

'That would be correct, Miss Granger,' Snape answered. 'Come. I would like for you to select the kaffir limes and perhaps some of the leaves for me.'

They walked along the rows carefully together, Snape holding a basket to place their purchases in. As Hermione selected and displayed the ingredients, Snape simply nodded when she made the correct selection, or when she made the wrong one, would pause long enough to explain to her why he believed that she'd chosen wrongly. He was very calm and patient with her, teaching her the subtle things that they had to look for between choosing the bet possible ingredient or picking something that was of lesser quality.

As Hermione listened and watched him explain his choices, she became suddenly aware of just how amazing Snape's dark eyes were when they were alive with passion. He was so passionate about his work, and it never failed to astound her when he showed that his attention to detail was important. She had always admired the man for his meticulousness and intelligence. What she had failed to realise until she had begun working with him was just how much Snape actually loved what it was that he did. She couldn't help herself, as she began to daydream, watching his thin lips move and his elegant hands gesturing to emphasise his points.

'Miss Granger?' Snape said, snapping her out of her daze.

She blinked up at him, simultaneously giving herself a mental shake. It wouldn't do for her to give herself away in front of the man. The last thing she needed was for him to have something to use against her. She was not so sure her fragile psyche could handle a rejection from the one man she had been attracted to in a long while.

'I'm sorry, sir. My mind was… elsewhere,' she said apologetically.

'I insist you pay proper attention from now on,' he said gruffly.

'Yes, Professor,' she said with a nod, sufficiently chastised. They last thing she needed was to lose her position as his assistant.

She followed Snape as they continued to search for the ingredients they needed, and she tried to keep her mind on the job.

* * *

To be continued.


	14. Chapter 14: Abnormality

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to lyn_f, without whom this chapter would not be beta'd.

* * *

_Abnormality, by definition, is the state or quality of being abnormal, or a variation or irregularity._

* * *

The lab was humid and hot, both contributing to the continual shedding of layers by the two people currently occupying the room.

For his part, Snape had already stripped down to just his trousers and white shirtsleeves, which he had already rolled up to his elbows, and loosened the collar. Granger was wearing shorts once more, with a tee shirt bearing a vaguely familiar cartoon mouse which was totally inappropriate for a woman of her age. They were tired from working all day and sweating like pigs, but they had two steps left before their potion needed to simmer overnight, and they needed to complete those before cleaning up for the day.

Snape looked up from his work briefly to behold the woman across the bend from him. She had wisely showed up with her curly hair pulled back in a plait that day, keeping it out of her face for the most part and preventing it from contaminating their potion. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth as she pounded away on the horn of bicorn in the mortar and pestle, grinding it carefully into a fine powder.

Snape wanted to reach out and pluck that plumped lower lip from between her teeth and soothe the bite with his tongue, but was immediately disgusted with himself for having those thoughts. They had important work to do. It was no time for ogling his assistant while she worked. Focussing on the task at hand, he pulled the valerian root towards him and began to carefully cut it into cubes. They would need it for the next stage of the potion, and Granger was busy working hard – he should have been equally focussed.

Once he was finished with his task, Snape looked up and saw that Granger was also finished with her powdered horn of bicorn. She was carefully weighing the powder on his silver scales, making sure that they did not add too much – any ingredient produced from the bicorn was certain to produce volatile results if one was not careful. He was proud of her, if he was honest with himself. She was one of the best students he had ever taught, and he was silently pleased that she was attempting to make a name for herself in academics rather than riding on the coattails of other's success.

She was, in essence, everything he wished he could have been when he was her age and more.

'Let me do that,' Snape said as he watched her move to dust the bicorn on the top of the potion.

She raised an eyebrow at him in confusion, but handed the measured powder over to him anyway. 'Did I do something incorrectly?' she asked.

He shook his head. 'Not at all,' he replied in a slightly clipped tone as he moved to stand before the potion and lightly coat the top of the simmering potion with the dust. 'If our calculations are incorrect, I would prefer that you were not injured. You are, by far, the more visually appealing of the two of us, and it would be a shame if you were to receive injury to your appearance due to a mistake on our part.'

She gaped at him in surprise, but closed her mouth quickly and responded with a slight nod. 'Thank you for being so considerate,' she murmured softly. 'Although, I'm hardly pretty, so it wouldn't really make that much of a difference.'

'You are pretty,' Snape said, the words spilling out of his mouth before his brain kicked in to stop him.

'Oh,' she said quietly, her face clearly displaying her shock at his comment.

'Close your mouth, Granger. You look like a fish,' he said with a dark chuckle, trying to cover up his last little indiscretion.

Her mouth snapped shut, and she wordlessly passed him his silver stirring rod when he completed the process of adding the bicorn horn. He concentrated on stirring the brew consistently, pleased that their calculations had indeed been correct. He would not have to worry about his unlovely face being melted from his skull that day. He continued to stir for the next ten minutes before finally withdrawing the rod and passing it back to Granger so she could clean it.

'Well, once we have added the valerian root, we shall place the potion in stasis and continue with our work tomorrow,' he announced. 'I think we are coming closer to the end with this one. There is the question of getting our hands on some Phoenix tears; however, I believe that if we go to Hogwarts, Minerva might allow us to collect some from Fawkes if he is willing.'

Hermione nodded. 'If you'd like, we can go there on Friday,' she replied. 'I was planning to catch up with Luna sometime this week, and I do believe she is doing research there this week. You'd be welcome to come to lunch with us too, Professor.'

'I think, perhaps, it might be time for you to start calling me Severus,' he said, looking down at the stained wood of the bench.

'Perhaps you should be calling me Hermione then.'

'Fair point, well made,' he said with a smirk, looking back up at her face and the triumphant grin lighting her features. 'I shall consider your invitation to lunch; however, I will contact Minerva myself tonight and ask if we might visit with her that afternoon also.'

Hermione nodded. Yes, she was _Hermione_ to him now. He had permission to call her by her given name. Surely he would be allowed to think of her familiarly by now. He felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth, but he resisted it and instead turned his focus back to the potion before them. He placed the sliced root on the top of the potion and watched as the pieces slowly sank into the brew. The liquid was shimmering purple, still dark and not quite perfect, but very close to the colour and consistency that they had predicted.

After Hermione had finished stirring it until all of the bits of root had dissolved into the potion, they put it on stasis and began their cleaning. Hermione put away all of the ingredients and the potion itself in the storeroom for safekeeping, and Snape focussed his attention on cleaning the chopping board, knives and the mortar and pestle. When they were done, Snape watched as Hermione put on her robes over her ridiculous Muggle clothing and followed her up the stairs with his robes and jacket.

'I guess I will see you in the morning,' Hermione said when they had reached the top of the stairs.

Snape felt a tightening in his chest when she said that, loathe to watch her leave so soon. Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he had put and hand on her shoulder gently, and she turned up to look at his face, her eyes alight with curiosity.

'You could stay for dinner,' he murmured quietly. 'We barely ate today, and you look too tired and hungry to be Apparating anywhere. I wouldn't want you to splinch yourself because I deprived you of nutrients all day.'

She paused to consider his offer for a moment before nodding. 'I suppose I am a little tired and decidedly peckish,' she admitted.

The two of them made their way to the kitchen, and Hermione immediately put on the kettle and got out the tea things. She put together the makings of a pot of Earl Grey tea while Snape went to the refrigerator to see what he had in there to cook. He watched as she carefully measured the tea leaves, meticulous in that as she was with everything else she did. He returned his focus to the task at hand and pulled out the defrosted beef mince that was sitting in the fridge along with an onion, some tomatoes and cloves of garlic.

He put a large pot of water on to boil, throwing in a dash of salt, before moving to the bench and crushing the garlic with the side of a knife and mincing it swiftly. He chopped the onion finely and placed both into another saucepan, adding some olive oil and waiting for them to begin to cook on a medium heat. While this was happening, he occupied himself with chopping the tomatoes roughly. Hermione brought a mug of tea over to him and stood beside him, watching him as he worked. It made him a little nervous if he was honest.

'Can I help you with anything?' she offered.

'You can get me a small jar of tomato paste and a container of beef stock from the cupboard,' he replied, turning back to the saucepan to add the mince to the translucent onion mixture.

She complied and brought the ingredients over to him, and he gestured silently for her to place them on the bench beside his tomatoes. When the meat was browned, he added the tomato and wilted it into the mixture before adding the liquid stock. Hermione held her mug of tea in both hands, warming her palms with the heat of the drink. He was very aware of her presence, and it was highly distracting. He needed to give her something to do.

'The water for the pasta is boiling. You will find dried spaghetti in the cupboard also. Top shelf,' he instructed, sounding just like a teacher.

He cursed inwardly. The last thing he wanted was to sound more and more like the teacher she knew than the man he was now – even if he didn't intend to pursue the girl. She smiled at him, however, and complied without complaint. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief before continuing with his cooking, adding the tomato paste to the mixture along with some ground black pepper and a pinch of sugar. When all of the ingredients were combined, he turned the temperature down so that it was low and simmering and stepped back to watch it as it cooked.

'So… now we wait?' she asked, touching his arm lightly.

He smirked. 'Yes,' he answered. 'The pasta will be cooked shortly, and in a little while, the meat will be tender and we can eat.'

'I love spaghetti bolognese,' Hermione commented idly, taking a sip of her tea.

'So do I,' Snape said, picking up his own tea and taking a sip. 'This is a good brew.'

'I've learned from the best,' she said, a hint of teasing in her tone.

They lapsed into silence, waiting and listening to the sound of the water boiling in the pot. Snape glanced over to see that while she was tired, Hermione still managed to be quite pretty. He long brown hair was still pulled back in a ponytail from their day of work, and while he thought it was ridiculous, he still liked the way her shirt looked on her. Shaking his head for his wayward thoughts, he took another sip of his tea to distract himself when she finally piped up out of nowhere.

'It's strange, you know,' she said softly.

'What, pray tell, is strange, Hermione?' he asked, her name rolling off his tongue as if he had been saying her name his whole life.

'Working with you, eating at your house all of the time, relying on you to keep me sane,' she said, gesturing between them vaguely.

'I'm not certain whether you think that is bad or good,' he remarked with a smirk, pleased at his ability to remain almost aloof.

'It's a good thing, I think,' she replied. 'I enjoy this. I actually look forward to working here during the week after a weekend at home alone. I never thought it would be like this. If anyone had asked me a couple of years ago if I could imagine myself doing this now, I would have thought they'd gone 'round the bend. Now, the idea of it doesn't seem so abnormal.'

Snape felt warmth spread through him at her innocent admission. He would be foolish to read into it too much, but part of him wished that she had some sort of feelings for him in return. He gave himself a mental shake: unrealistic.

'I enjoy working together also,' he found himself admitting before he could stop himself. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about her compelled him to be honest. 'I am pleased with our progress.'

Ten minutes later, as the pair sat down to eat, they shared a small smile with one another, and Snape felt content.

* * *

To be continued.


	15. Chapter 15: Anthropology

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Thanks to lyn_f for all of her help as my beta.

* * *

_Anthropology, by definition, is the social science that studies the origins and social relationships of human beings._

* * *

It was seven o'clock in the morning when Hermione Apparated directly to Snape's front hallway before heading straight to the kitchen as usual.

When she arrived, she saw that there were delicious golden crumpets sitting on a plate in the middle of the table. Beside it was a bowl of light yellow, buttery-looking conserve. Snape was standing beside the stove as he waited for the kettle to boil. She walked over to join him and stood beside him silently, aware that the man himself was not ready to talk. It was too early in the morning, and apparently he hadn't had a cup of coffee or tea yet.

'Coconut crumpets with lemon butter,' he grumbled quietly.

She beamed at him. 'It smells divine! It doesn't look like butter though,' she said.

'It's not really a butter,' he replied. 'It's simply a name. It more closely resembles a buttery lemon curd jam.'

'I got you to talk before your morning coffee,' Hermione exclaimed triumphantly. 'I feel like anything is possible now!'

'Mind your manners, Granger,' he said with a sour look. 'I might be speaking this morning; however, I can't be held responsible for what might come out of my mouth in my current state.'

'Oh, I know you're all talk, Severus,' she said, waving him off.

He quirked an eyebrow at her and carried the whistling kettle over to the bench where the French press was sitting with the ground coffee already ready and waiting. Hermione took the plunger over to the table with their mugs and sat it down there to steep while they began eating. Snape joined her a moment later, and they generously slathered their crumpets with the lemon curd.

'Did you make all of this yourself?' she asked around a mouthful of food.

'Do try to swallow before you attempt speech, Granger,' he said with a heavy sigh. 'Your manners are abominable.'

She threw him a rueful smile before poking out her tongue at him. She knew it was juvenile, but she no longer cared to put on a fake persona in front of Snape. She was comfortable around him now. She'd never slept so well in such a long time – she was barely using any Dreamless Sleep potion at this point, and when she did have nightmares, then and only then did she take a 40 ml dose of the Dreamless Sleep potion. And she knew she owed it all to Snape and the confidence she had gained from him trusting her with his precious life's work, and all of the hard work she did five days a week.

She came out of her thoughts when Snape reached out to push down the plunger of the French press. He poured both of them a mug and pushed one across the table towards her. She accepted it gratefully and took a sip, holding the mug between her hands to warm them. As summer was drawing to a close, the air had started to become crisp once more, and it rained every other day. Across the table from her, Snape was drinking out of his own mug. He swallowed his mouthful and placed the mug back on the table before clearing his throat.

'In answer to your earlier question, yes, I did make the crumpets and the lemon curd,' he said, sounding much more awake.

'It's delicious,' she said, smiling.

'You look well-rested,' he commented idly, picking up a second crumpet. 'How have you been going with your… problem recently?'

'Much better, actually,' she answered with an enthusiastic grin. 'I'm barely taking any of the potion – only about three times a week now on average which is a huge improvement. It's only been two months, and you've managed to help me more in that short time span than I was ever able to help myself in years.'

'I haven't done _that_ much,' he grumbled, averting his eyes shyly in a way that was almost endearing.

'You don't even know the half of it,' she said before he could add anything further. 'How is it that you knew exactly what I needed?'

She watched as Snape's expression darkened slightly as he looked up at her. She studied his features – his brow and lips both set in a hard line. She had obviously brought up something she shouldn't have. Was it something to do with her addiction, or something more personal? Come to think of it, she wasn't certain why she had never asked Snape anything about his motivations for helping her and knowing how in the first place. Usually she would question the hell out of him. It just went to show how desperately she had needed help at the time – she hadn't even been herself.

'It is a long and very boring story,' he replied after a moment, his face softening slightly as he returned to eating his food. 'We don't have enough time for that today at any rate. We have a date with Minerva, Fawkes and the unicorns.'

'Oh! I didn't realise you'd already gotten into contact with her,' Hermione said in surprise. 'I haven't even organised anything with Luna. It must have slipped my mind. And the unicorns too? I thought we were only going there for Phoenix tears?'

'Tut tut, Hermione Granger forgetting something as important as that? It simply is _not_ done,' Snape drawled sarcastically. 'Finish your breakfast quickly so we can get our work for the day underway. I intend to kill two birds with the one stone in this case.'

'All right, bossy,' she retorted, stuffing the last of her crumpet into her mouth, making a point to chew slowly. 'But I'll need to owl Luna before we leave to make sure she's free.'

'Fine,' Snape replied curtly.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. She wasn't certain why he was so grumpy with her – she'd asked a fairly simple question. Either way, it looked as though she'd be spending the day with the grumpy Professor Snape, not Severus, that day.

Hermione trudged along the stony footpath alongside Snape, who was silent and brooding as they made their way up to Hogwarts.

She was starting to get a little fed up with him, but decided again pushing him any further. She had been working with Snape for long enough to know when he was bark and when it was bite. That morning, it was definitely bite, and she had no desire to be caught in the crossfire. _Let the infuriating man take it out on someone else_, she thought. Hogwarts was growing larger in their sights with every step, and they soon reached the oak front doors and walked in.

Hermione had assumed they would have to wait for someone to come down and let them in, but was surprised that the doors had simply opened for Snape. After a moment, she remembered that and kept her questions to herself. Snape was a professor at Hogwarts after all, and so it would make sense from him to have full access to the castle, regardless of the season or holiday schedule.

'We'll go up to visit with Minerva for a short while before we meet Hagrid at his house,' Snape informed her curtly. 'He will enter the forest with us and wait with me while you collect the blood samples.'

'Oh, that sounds just lovely,' she drawled, sarcasm dripping from her words. 'I can't tell you how much I would like to harm a delicate woodland creature.'

'Unicorns may prefer purity, but they are anything but harmless little angels,' Snape warned her. 'They can be deadly if you cross them.'

Hermione nodded, knowing he was correct. They walked up to the Headmistress's office and caught the spiral staircase to the top. They entered her office without preamble, and she soon found herself enveloped in the arms of Minerva McGonagall, whose once severe bun was now a loose one sitting at the nape of her neck.

'It's good to see you, Professor,' Hermione said politely.

'Please. It has been many years since you were my student, and I would rather not be called that name unless totally necessary,' McGonagall said, leading Hermione over to the desk and putting her down in a seat right across the desk from her.

Snape grouched his way into the only other seat in the room, right beside Hermione, apparently displeased that he hadn't received even so much as a 'hello' from his colleague and employer.

'Hello to you as well, Severus,' McGonagall said finally. 'There is no need to be so petulant, either. You know very well I haven't seen Miss Granger in a long time. I see you every day when the school term is on.'

Hermione laughed, covering her mouth with her hands to try and muffle it. Snape would not be pleased with her if he caught her laughing at his expression. After an hour of catching up and drinking tea and collecting some tears from Fawkes, Snape made his excuses to leave, and the two of them departed McGonagall's office after Hermione promised to visit more often in the future. They made their way swiftly down to Hagrid's and saw that the half-giant was in the pumpkin patch outside his house, tending to the growth of green vines and leaves that were growing haphazardly all over the ground.

'Ello, 'Ermione!' Hagrid exclaimed, dragging her up against him in a tight hug that left her a little breathless. 'It's bin' a long time since I seen you 'ere in these parts.'

'Studying keeps me busy,' she offered with a shrug. 'And Severus has been kind enough to offer me work as his assistant this summer, so I have been keeping myself occupied and getting some valuable work experience with a seasoned Potions master.'

Hagrid nodded as though he understood. 'Well then, Professor Snape, 'Ermione. We'd best be getting on with it. The unicorns will be by the lake in the forest around this time 'o the day. Should be easy to find them at the moment. Any later and they might be someplace else.'

The two of them followed Hagrid into the forest, and as they walked and Hagrid regaled them with the details of his most recent trip to France to visit Madame Maxime, Hermione quietly observed Snape. His back was ramrod straight, and she could tell he was still in a bad mood. She wondered why he had avoided her questions so strongly that morning, and why his behaviour towards her had suddenly cooled so significantly. She felt the beginnings of a sulk, but held it in. The last thing she needed to do was draw his attention to the burgeoning feelings she had towards the man. He would surely turn her away if he were to discover them.

She was drawn from her thoughts by their arrival at a small grove of trees that were near the lake. The sheer number of unicorns resting there instantly overwhelmed Hermione. She didn't count them all exactly, but she would have guessed that there were at least thirty, both adult and foal alike. She saw this surprised Snape also, but he made no move to put himself within their vision. She knew he was afraid to scare them away with his taint.

'They're beautiful,' she whispered softly.

'Aye, they're pretty, all right,' Hagrid agreed. 'Mind you, not many 'o them want to come near me anymore, 'cept the eldest one over the other side of the lake with the longest horn there.'

Hermione immediately started to slowly edge forward, stepping lightly into the clearing and presenting herself to them with her palms open and arms spread to the side just as Snape had told her.

'I mean you no ill will,' she spoke firmly. 'I need your help. We are trying to make a potion to help my parents recover their memories, and help other people like them. We need some of your blood.'

She stood there, as still as a statue, keeping her arms out and hands open along with steady breaths to keep her cool. After a few minutes, the oldest unicorn got up from its resting position on the other side of the lake, and made its way over to her. Hermione reached out a hand, and the white male nuzzled his nose against her palm for a few moments before lowering its horn to its flank and piercing it carefully. She was there with a vial in a second, collecting the blood it freely offered to her.

Hermione felt elated that the beautiful creature was so generous with its gift, and as soon as two vials were filled, the wound healed itself, and all of the unicorns began to leave the clearing as one. She felt a hand on her shoulder a moment later, and turned to see Snape steadying her. He took the blood and pocketed it, and then he led the way out of the forest with Hagrid bringing up the rear.

'You did well,' was all Snape murmured afterwards.

Hermione simply nodded. That night, she tossed and turned in her sleep, unable to find respite until she finally gave in and took some Dreamless Sleep.

* * *

To be continued.


	16. Chapter 16: Achievement

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to Lyn_f for all of her hard work as my beta.

* * *

_Achievement, by definition, is the act of achieving or performing; an obtaining by exertion; successful performance; accomplishment; as, the __achievement__ of his object._

* * *

Sweat ran down the back of his neck, joining the rest of the salty liquid he had been perspiring at the stiff collar of his black shirt.

Snape had been labouring away on the memory restoration potion all night, and without even realising it, morning had broken and he was still down in his lab, recreating the potion from the very beginning of the formula he and Hermione had completed. The potion was looking very promising, and with the incorporation of the phoenix tears and unicorn blood into the mixture as a purifying presence, the brew was a light purple with a slightly silver sheen to the top of it.

He looked at the clock on the far wall and saw that it was nearly nine in the morning, and Hermione would be arriving at any moment. He felt a moment of panic, realising the state he was in and how he was likely to appear to the young witch. She was even less likely now to be able to see past his unlovely looks. Growling under his breath for even considering that she might be interested in him, Snape set himself to the task of tidying up what little of the mess he had made that he could.

After a few minutes, he heard the crack of Apparation from upstairs, followed by footsteps to the kitchen and around the living room, before the door at the top of the stairs finally opened. A few seconds later, Hermione came into view wearing a slightly bemused smile on her face.

'You look awful,' she said with a dry chuckle. 'Go up and shower and take a nap. If you tell me where you are up to, I will take it from here while you rest.'

'I've marked it in the journal,' Snape said, walking over to the sink on the back wall to wash his hands.

He was at the point where he was not in a position to turn down her offer to watch the potion. All he would need was a shower and a few hours of sleep, and he'd be up by lunchtime and could get back to work. They were so close to achieving his life's work, he could almost taste the satisfaction. He watched as she made her way around the bench to him and nodded when she saw his last entry into the work journal.

'I've got this covered,' she insisted, giving him a gentle nudge in the ribs with her elbow.

He nodded and in his slight daze, reached out and touched her shoulder gently, giving it a tender squeeze before going on his way.

He wandered up the stairs and continued even further up to his bedroom, heading straight for the bathroom to take a shower. Laziness combined with weariness caused him to magically undress himself, and his clothes peeled away effortlessly, leaving him standing nude. He waved a hand at the taps in the shower, and they automatically turned on and adjusted the warmth of the water to his exact liking. After making certain that he was clean from head to toe, he dressed with a pair of cotton sleep-pants and went to his bed.

He had already fallen asleep by the time his head hit the pillow.

Snape's head was extremely heavy and his mouth felt as though it had been filled with cotton wool similar to how one would feel after going to the dentist.

He carefully opened one eye and was relieved that the curtains in his room had been closed. He would have to remember to congratulate himself later on his foresight. He yawned and stretched, behaviour that was not normal for him, and soon sat up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He looked over at the clock on his nightstand and was surprised that it was nearly five in the afternoon.

He got up quickly and began to dress in a fresh pair of black trousers and a long-sleeved black button-down shirt. He rolled the sleeves to his elbows and went to the bathroom to wash his face, waking himself up enough to face Hermione downstairs. He couldn't believe he had been asleep for so long. Why didn't she wake him? He felt himself quickly filling with mortification.

He went down to the lab immediately and saw that Hermione was using a large eyedropper to carefully measure in the exact amounts of phoenix tears into the potion. He could not believe that during the time he was asleep, she had watched over their potion and continued it to the point where it would only need to steep for a few more hours until its completion.

'Good evening,' she said with a small smile after she had put down the eyedropper and picked up the stirring rod. 'Do you feel better now?'

'Much, thank you,' he replied, taking a seat on the stool across from her. 'You let me sleep for far too long.'

'You were exhausted beyond what was reasonable,' she said with a shrug. 'I know you wouldn't allow me to work down here on this potion if I had as little energy as you did when I arrived. Turnabout is fair play.'

'I concede your point,' he answered with a heavy sigh, knowing she was correct.

While Hermione Granger had been a drug addict, she was not suffering from memory loss – her mind was still as sharp as a tack. Of course, it was only natural for her to remember her first couple of weeks as his assistant that summer. He had waited until he deemed her well enough to help him with his potion, and then he had turned around and deprived himself of sleep to the point where he was almost a vegetable. He felt his mortification growing.

'I apologise that you found me in that state this morning,' he said curtly, trying to hide his shame behind a mask of coolness. 'I had begun working on the base of the potion last night and lost track of the time in my eagerness to complete it.'

'Yes, well it looks as though your eagerness has paid off,' she replied with a grin. 'We are so close to the finish now, and soon we'll be able to test it on some mutated cells and vermin, and then after that, we can test it on Gilderoy Lockhart!'

'Lockhart?' Snape questioned, raising an eyebrow at her. 'Why so eager to cure that buffoon?'

'I don't want to test it on my parents first,' she said firmly. 'If anything is wrong with the potion, I want to work out the kinks before giving my parents the perfect formula. I could live without Lockhart being restored, but he is the best alternative for a test subject. You've given me hope with this potion, Severus. I am so close to being able to feel truly happy again for the first time in years.'

'I am pleased that you feel that way,' Snape murmured, watching the light and happiness dance in her eyes.

The two of them fell into silence across from one another, giving Snape the opportunity to observe Hermione once more as she continued stirring the potion. She wasn't smiling, but there was a colour to her cheeks and brightness to her eyes that had not been there two months before. And unfortunately for him, he was more attracted to her than ever. He had feelings for her that were stronger than he ever would have thought possible, and where he felt he owed her a debt before, he now simply wanted to protect and care for her.

One of her long curly locks had escaped the ribbon she had used to tie it all back, and it was falling into her eyes. He watched as she idly pushed it behind her ear, wishing he had been a little closer so he could have moved it for her. He clenched his hands in his lap, annoyed with himself yet again. It seemed that every time he took a break from reigning himself in, his thoughts would wander into very dangerous territory.

'You've been working hard all day,' he said finally, drawing her focus to him once more. 'You should go home for the day – I will take care of the potion until it's completed and send you an owl when I have the results.'

She shook her head immediately in protest. 'I am going to stay, if that's alright with you,' she said quietly. 'I want to be here when it's finished.'

Snape looked up at the clock on the wall. 'Are you hungry?' he asked, noting that it was already six at night and he was beginning to feel peckish.

She smiled sheepishly. 'Actually, now that you mention it, I've only had a few cups of tea so far today, so I'm starving,' she answered.

'I could go upstairs to whip something up,' he offered.

She shook her head. 'I will go and get some take-away,' she said with a grin. 'We've both been working far too hard over the past twenty-four hours to be doing anything other than focusing on this potion. Besides, there is a new Indian restaurant near my flat that I wanted to try.'

Snape nodded in agreement, silently pleased by her offer. He was in no mood to cook and was far more interested in finishing the potion than wasting time upstairs in the kitchen. He stood and moved over to her and took her place in front of the potion, accepting the stirring rod from her. She went to the sink and washed her hands, stopping to re-do her hair with the ribbon. She picked up her wand and pocketed it, wandlessly summoning her robes to her and pulling it on over her blouse and skirt.

'I'll be back in about half an hour,' she said before walking up the stairs and Apparating away without waiting for a reply.

Snape heaved a sigh of relief as soon as he was certain she was gone. There was something that had changed between the two of them since the day they had gone to Hogwarts to collect the tears from Fawkes and the blood from the unicorns. He had not been terribly kind to her that day. She had asked him too many questions, and each one of them had been harder for him to answer than the next. In the end, he had simply tried to ignore her for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately for him, when she had collected the unicorn blood, there had been quite a significant drain on her magic in the ceremony. She had been tired and a little shaken afterwards, and she had gone straight home after letting Luna Lovegood know that she would not be meeting her for lunch. Snape had returned to his own house with the ingredients alone and had spent the rest of the day brooding and pacing. Now, one week later, he observed there was still some tension between them from his coolness towards her.

He returned to his work, crushing the gingko biloba into a paste with his mortar and pestle. He added it to the mixture and continued stirring it consistently for ten minutes before lowering the flame and using the eyedropper to add the unicorn blood and a single Chinese Fireball scale. He watched as both ingredients settled on the top of the potion, slowly dissolving on their own. He was just finishing up with cleaning up the tools that weren't needed when he heard the crack of Apparation from upstairs.

He set an alarm spell around the potion to let him know if there were any changes and adjourned upstairs to eat dinner with Hermione.

She was arranging containers of steaming hot curry on the table along with their plates and cutlery and a large container of rice. He saw that she'd purchased some pappadums and naan bread to eat with it as well. It smelled delicious, and it reminded him that he hadn't eaten for over twenty-four hours.

'Thank you for dinner,' he said, sitting down at the table with her.

'You have a choice of butter chicken or palak paneer,' she said, gesturing at the dishes. 'Both of them are personal favourites.'

'I am sure they will both be satisfactory,' he replied.

'High praise indeed,' she said with a smirk.

They ate in silence, both using cutlery, as they were woefully inept at using their hands whilst eating curry. When they were finished, they cleaned up and stored the leftovers in his fridge before heading back down to the lab. All that was left was for them to wait for another couple of hours to see more results as it simmered on a low heat. Snape made notes in the journal and drew illustrations in the journal while Hermione simply sat there beside him with her chin resting on her palm with her elbow propped against the bench.

She yawned and despite the fact that he had only been awake for a couple of hours, he felt the urge to yawn also. He was drained from the night before and all the work he had done until Hermione had arrived. But despite their weariness, they endured and remained awake until the timer finally went off at exactly nine p.m. Snape stood and stretched himself out, walking around the bench and extinguishing the flame completely.

Hermione came around and poked her head over to take a look inside the cauldron. Snape looked at her face and they smiled at one another. The potion was perfect.

* * *

To be continued.


	17. Chapter 17: Anticipation

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to lyn_f for all of her help as my beta.

* * *

_Anticipation, by definition, is the act of anticipating, taking up, placing, or considering something beforehand, or before the proper time in natural order._

* * *

The seasons that year were changing rather sooner than later with the leaves on the trees already beginning to turn brown and gold and the air becoming crisp every morning and evening.

That particular morning, Hermione had turned off her alarm at seven o'clock and attempted to get out of bed, only to find that there was more of a cold bite to the air than she was comfortable with, particularly in her thin cotton sleeping clothes on. She had curled back up under the blankets and set herself a second alarm to go off an hour later before promptly going back to sleep. Fortunately for Hermione, it was a Saturday and one of the two days she did not spend at work with Snape.

It wasn't so much that she disliked Snape at all – in fact it was rather, uncomfortably, the opposite. It was that she would not be forced to stand in the same room, exposed to the man for a great many hours while he sat at his bench and edited the progress journal for their potion. Try as she might, Hermione had been unable to stop herself from staring at the man whenever she thought she could get away with it, despite his attitude towards her remaining somewhat aloof and cold.

She knew when his attitude had changed towards her, recalling that it was her own big mouth that had upset him in the first place. Things had been fine between them, and they were even beginning to become friendly towards one another. However, she had let herself ask one too many personal questions which sent her straight back to square one with Snape.

She sighed and rolled out of bed, switching off her alarm early, unable to continue to stay in bed any longer.

Maybe a good long run would get rid of all thoughts of Snape for a while. She went to the bathroom and washed her face, tying her hair back in a plait to secure it out of her face before going to rummage through her cupboards for her running clothes. She pulled on a pair of tights and a T-shirt along with some running shoes, and after shrinking and tucking her wand into the small pocket of her pants, she left her flat, waiting in the hall briefly to ensure she heard the locks and wards take effect.

She ran down the street and towards the river, planning to run a few kilometres along the pathway alongside the water.

On her way home, she bought a blueberry bagel and some cream cheese to spread on it for her breakfast. She toasted it and ate it when she got upstairs, and then she went to the study to feed Ophelia some bird pellets and a little bit of bacon for a snack and reward. She checked her planner on the desk while she was there and saw that she had marked in lunch with Harry, Ron and Luna that day.

She was glad because she hadn't seen any of them for over two weeks and would need to update all of them on the progress of the potion when she met them. She had needed to make it up to Luna for cancelling their lunch date that day she had gone with Snape to Hogwarts. This way she was killing two birds with one stone, and she would have plenty of things to do to occupy her from worrying about Snape throughout the day. However, she had a feeling it would be pretty hard to ignore thoughts of him for any extended period of time.

She spent the rest of her morning tidying her flat, from cleaning the kitchen and her brewing area thoroughly to dusting her many bookshelves and even cleaning out the fireplace, which had started to build-up with soot. It was hard work, but when she was finished, she felt satisfaction at a job well done. She was proud she had managed to keep her thoughts of Snape to a minimum, and when he did pop up, she had immediately set herself to work even harder.

By this point, she was covered in sweat and grime from her chores and was in desperate need of a shower. She stripped and turned on the water in the water closet and waited for it to reach an acceptable temperature before stepping inside and moaning softly in relief as the warmth of the water soothed her tired muscles. She scrubbed her hair and body until she was completely clean before finally turning off the water and drying herself with a towel. She wrapped her wet hair in the towel and dressed in clean undergarments and a green knit sweater and black jeans before pulling her wet hair back in a braid.

When it was finally noon, she Apparated to Diagon Alley and made her way to the Leaky Cauldron to meet with her friends.

Unlike the last time she had met with them there, she was not wearing a glamour charm nor did she have dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was healthy along with her complexion, and she was standing taller and looking much more like the Hermione they knew. She was pleased with herself and how she had managed to pull herself together with Snape's assistance.

On her arrival at the pub, she looked around, seeking out her companions and finally seeing them waving at her from a booth on the far wall.

Hermione smiled and made her way over, hugging all three of them before finally settling down in the booth seat beside Luna. Harry and Luna both beamed at her, automatically sensing that she was feeling better, while Ron, dear Ron, remained as clueless as ever as to why the pair was beaming at their friend in a strange manner.

'You look great, Hermione,' Harry said with a meaningful look. 'I'm surprised that after all that hanging around with Snape, you're not grumpier.'

Hermione smirked at his teasing. 'Professor Snape is all bark,' she replied.

'Oi, how is that going, Hermione?' Ron asked. 'When Harry told me you were going to work for Snape over the summer, I thought you might have been going barmy.'

'It has been… very educational,' she answered. 'I make a lot of potions and do research with him, and he helps me improve my technique. It's hard work, but I've really enjoyed it. I almost don't want it to end.'

'How is that project you and Snape are working on, anyhow?' Harry asked as Luna nodded with interest from beside her.

'Yes, tell us how it's going,' the younger witch piped.

'We've completed the brewing, and we'll be going into the testing phase very soon,' she excitedly replied. 'We'll be testing the potion on cells under the microscope to begin with, and then from there we'll begin testing on a few creatures Hagrid caught for us from the Forbidden Forest. After that, if all the preliminary tests are successful, we'll begin testing on people.'

'What's the potion for?' Ron asked, confused.

'Oh,' Hermione exclaimed. 'I forgot I hadn't had a chance to tell you about it in any detail. Professor Snape and I are working on a potion to reverse the effects of memory charms that have permanently affected the victims they were used on. So far we have created a formula and brewed it in the hopes that it will be effective. After that, I suppose the professor will patent it, and he'll go on with the next project.'

'Wow, that's intense,' the redhead said, his mouth agape.

Hermione nodded. 'I think this potion might be the first step towards creating something that will reverse the effects of the Cruciatus curse on the various victims from the war – namely Neville's parents.'

'You don't think this potion you've created already will help them?' Luna asked.

She shook her head. 'It's not caused by the same factors, and there is a whole lot of Arithmancy involved with potion-making as well as just having knowledge of Herbology,' she explained. 'That kind of condition is much more complex, both mentally and physically, and is caused from torture magic rather than just a memory-targeted charm.'

'Isn't there already a reversal charm for Obliviates and those kind of memory charms?' Ron asked, his curiosity piqued, much to the surprise of the other three.

'Those kinds of charms are for short-term memory restorations,' she answered. Something stronger is necessary for the kind of memory restoration needed after years under the effect of a memory charm.. Charms can be effective, but Potions will always win out where problems with memories are involved.'

'I didn't realise you knew so much about this sort of stuff, Hermione,' Harry said, looking surprised.

'Of course she does, Harry,' Luna said before Hermione could reply. 'She has always been an academic, and she studies Healing as well as Potions. Healers must have a vast knowledge of many subjects.'

Harry nodded in understanding. 'That makes sense.'

Hermione could see that her friends were all really trying to be interested in her work and passions. She felt warmth in her chest and felt really lucky to be surrounded by such wonderful people in her life. She immediately regretted not confiding her problems to her friends sooner. If only she had trusted that they would understand and not judge her for it, maybe she would have been restored to her own self sooner. She gave herself a mental shake. There was no point living in the past.

Soon enough, a waitress walked over to their table to take their order, and a few minutes later, their food appeared.

They all shared a laugh as Ron began to immediately stuff himself silly. Hermione ate about half of her sandwich before pushing the remaining half across the table to her bottomless pit of a friend. He ate her leftovers without a word of complaint. After lunch, Ron headed off to run a few errands for his mother. Despite living with Harry and Luna in Grimmauld Place, Ron still spent a lot of time at the Burrow eating his mother's cooking and running her errands. He was still such a child sometimes.

Harry smiled at her after he was sure Ron was gone and reached over to put a hand over hers on the table. 'So, how are you really?' he asked, concern in his green eyes.

'I'm great, honestly, Harry,' she said, waving him off.

'You cancelled lunch with Luna a couple of weeks ago,' he said seriously. 'What happened? Did something happen with Snape?'

'I was feeling really exhausted after an unintentional magic transfer when I went to collect unicorn blood with the professor that day,' she explained. 'It wasn't his fault. I knew about the draining effect it would have on me. I just didn't expect it to be so severe.'

'Are you truly happy working with him?' Luna asked.

Hermione paused to think for a moment. She wasn't sure if she wanted to answer this question. Talking about him was a guaranteed way to ensure that Snape was going to stay on her mind. She wasn't sure what her friends would be able to detect if she started to talk about him.

'I enjoy the work we do together – he has a brilliant mind, and now that we're not in school, he is much nicer,' she answered. 'That's not to say that he's nice by any stretch. In fact, he's been rather a lot colder lately just when we were beginning to come to something of an accord.'

Harry frowned, seemingly in thought. 'I thought he was supposed to be helping you,' he said.

'He has helped me,' Hermione replied. 'More than you'd ever believe. It's just that I was beginning to get used to him being one way, only for him to switch back to being the old Snape again. He's blows hot and then cold. Sometimes I don't know which way is up with him.'

'Do you have feelings for him?' Luna asked suddenly.

Hermione froze. Damn Luna and her perceptiveness. She didn't know how she was going to explain this to her friends.

'I – I don't really know what I feel,' she answered after a few minutes. 'I don't know how to anticipate what he will be like next. I am attracted to him, but I don't want to risk my feelings knowing he will always see me as just another brain.'

Harry and Luna nodded understandingly, surprising her. She had imagined the worst, assuming Harry would violently object to any sort of positive feelings she may have for their former professor.

'All I can do is sit back and wait to see what will happen with this potion,' Hermione said after a while. 'It's important to me.'

She sat back in her seat and stared out the window beside their booth. She wasn't sure how much more waiting she could endure.

* * *

To be continued.


	18. Chapter 18: Apology

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to lyn_f for her help with this chapter.

* * *

_Apology, by definition, is an expression of regret at having caused trouble for someone; "He wrote a letter of apology to the hostess"._

* * *

Snape stared at the doorway to his kitchen, sitting stiffly in his chair with a mug of coffee held between his hands.

Breakfast was already on the table with a warming charm placed over it. Over the weekend he'd had plenty of time to himself to think, and so naturally, he had thought of nothing but Hermione. With the potion brewing completed, he didn't have anything to do with all of that extra time on the weekend to distract him from thoughts about Hermione. And so, he had thought about her and made a few decisions wherein she was concerned.

Although he was deeply protective of the personal details of his life, he knew he had no reason to keep so many things from Hermione – particularly if they were going to cause a rift in their working relationship. He had vowed to help her with her recovery from her drug addiction, and he had come to see that telling her about his own addiction would be helpful to her. He knew that his feelings for her were influencing his decision-making, but he was growing tired of forcing himself to be cold to her.

He knew it was only a few weeks until he would return to Hogwarts and she would go back to her studies, and he didn't want to waste that time to be at odds with her. He would enjoy her friendship, if he could, and appreciate what little time that was left for them to spend working together. Besides, she was very much a partner in the memory recovery potion they had created, and he intended to make sure she accepted the credit for her part.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the sound of Apparation in the front hall. He heard the sound of footfalls before Hermione appeared in the kitchen looking a little tired, but nowhere near as bad as she had when he had first seen her two months before. She took her usual seat beside him and immediately reached for 'her' mug of coffee. It was a Gryffindor-red mug with her name written on it, and not something that one would expect to find in the home of Severus Snape.

'I love coffee,' she said after taking a mouthful.

'You look tired,' he said, waving a hand and lifting the stasis from their meal. 'Bacon and eggs?'

She nodded enthusiastically. 'I am starving, actually,' she replied. 'Scrambled eggs are my favourite.'

They ate mostly in silence and drank their coffee. Snape glanced at her occasionally over the course of their breakfast. She was still a relatively thin woman, but he assumed it was mostly due to her genetics rather than any form of her starvation at this point. She certainly didn't hold back when it came to eating breakfast in the morning, which relieved him greatly. He would never have to worry about her not getting enough to eat while she was at his house.

When they were finished eating, Snape cleared the table while Hermione automatically made them a pot of tea to drink while they worked that morning.

'What are we going to work on today?' she asked, breaking the silence.

Snape sighed heavily as he continued to scrub the pan he had used to cook. 'We have a few things we need to discuss before either of us will do any work today,' he replied, his nerves making him feel almost sick.

'We're going to talk?' she asked, stunned.

He nodded, draining the dirty water from the sink. He lifted the tray she had put the tea set on and led the way to the sitting room, placing it down again on the coffee table between the two armchairs in front of the fire. He gestured for her to take a seat and took the one across from her. He poured both of them a cup of tea, his hands trembling slightly in his nervousness. He covered it by passing the cup over to her swiftly and sitting back in his own chair, his back held stiffly.

'So, are you going to explain yourself?' she asked, looking impatient.

He smirked. She was as eager as ever to get on with work – a natural-born workaholic. 'To begin with, I would appreciate it if you would limit how often you interrupt me while we are having this discussion,' Snape began. 'I have a few things I would like to cover, and I don't want to take up the entire morning with this conversation.'

She nodded warily, a frown creasing her brow. 'Alright, say what you have to,' she replied.

Snape took a deep breath and fortified himself to speak his piece. 'Firstly, I would like to apologise to you for my behaviour towards you for the past few weeks,' he said, looking down at his teacup. 'I know you must have been wondering why it is that I have not been very warm towards you lately, and to be honest, it is because you asked me a question I was sensitive about, and I lashed out at you and withdrew. I am sure you already understand that it is something of a defence mechanism for me.'

She nodded again. 'I understand that, and I knew the moment I had asked you, I'd made a mistake,' she said, staring at her fingers that were clasped together.

He shook his head, looking up at her. 'No, it was my mistake. I am not a man who shares personal information easily, and it is my own distrustfulness that has been my downfall in many instances,' he replied. 'While I have been right to distrust a great many people in my time, I do not believe that you are one of them. It was wrong of me to withhold information from you when you have trusted me with your… problem… and allowed me to oversee your recovery.'

'Oh,' she murmured softly in surprise.

'I want to answer your question now, the one you asked a few weeks ago. You asked me why it was that I knew exactly what you needed,' he said calmly, pushing his panic to the back of his mind. It wasn't often that he would need to use Legilimency on himself, but now was one of those times. He needed to be strong now, or he might not find the courage to tell her this again. 'I know because I was once in a similar situation to yourself. I was addicted to a Muggle drug that is not common to this part of the world.'

She gasped, looking over at him in surprise. 'You were?' she asked, leaning forward with curiosity in her eyes.

He nodded solemnly. 'I was younger than you are now when it was introduced to me by a colleague of mine at the time. It is a plant commonly known as Kava, and it is grown in the Pacific region of the world. It is supposed to be a recreational drug used to relax the user without causing one's mental clarity to be disrupted. I began making use of it to relax when I first began spying for the Order and teaching at Hogwarts,' he explained.

'How do you take Kava? Is it something you smoke, like marijuana?' she asked.

He shook his head. 'No, the roots of the Kava plant are dried and ground into a fine powder before it is exported. I know it can be consumed in another fashion, but the preparation I followed was the traditional one. The powder is placed into cheesecloth and soaked in water for a minimum of thirty minutes. Afterwards, the water is wrung out of the powder-filled cloth and discarded, and the milky liquid remaining is what you consume. The flavour is somewhat foul, so I improved it with coconut milk and sugar.'

'How long did you consume the Kava for?' she asked.

'I was ritually consuming it twice every day for two years before I started drinking it four or fives time a day for the year following,' he replied. 'It is a terrible habit to form. After I became addicted, Albus tried to help me many times, but I refused his help and ignored his warnings that it would only worsen. I craved the relaxation it brought to my stressful life. When I was not drinking it, I would get the shakes, and when I eventually realised the effect it was having on me, I tried to give it up many times with little success. I became afraid, afraid that I would never be able to give it up – worried that I would become reduced to a shadow of myself. I couldn't eat or sleep and the shakes continued to get worse.'

Snape paused and stood up, walking over to the window nearby and staring outside. The park across the road from his house had a small playground and swing set in it. A young boy was with his father who was pushing him on the swing. He did not have a single fond memory of his childhood or his father. Watching the pair outside, however, did not stir anything in him. He was surprised by his lack of anger. What did it mean? He wasn't certain. Shaking himself from idle thoughts, he turned back to look at Hermione who was waiting for him to continue.

'I eventually gave in to Albus one day and asked for his help. He and Poppy Pomfrey nursed me through my recovery. I was in the Hospital Wing for over a month, not allowed to see anyone other than the two of them, and on a strict diet. After I rode out the wave of shakes, I was allowed to go back to teaching, and Dumbledore gave me many more projects to work on for the Order as far as potions went. I enjoyed the work, and slowly but surely, I was weaned off the drug until I no longer relied on it to function.'

'I had no idea,' she said softly, standing up and joining him at the window.

'By the time you were a student of mine, it had been many years since I had taken the drug,' he replied. 'I have not touched Kava in a great many years, and I never intend to do so again. Once in a lifetime is more than enough for me.'

'I'm sorry,' she said, touching his arm suddenly. 'After hearing about that, my problems seem miniscule by comparison.'

Snape shook his head. 'No, don't think that way. I did not tell you these things so that you would pity me. I wanted you to know that you are not alone in your struggles and that there will always be someone there to support you if you should ever need it.'

'Oh, don't misunderstand me,' she said, stepping even closer. 'I don't pity you, Severus. I just feel like my own worries are nothing compared to everything you lived through. You've always seemed so strong, but now I know even strong people can have weaknesses. It helps me, a lot.'

Snape nodded in understanding. 'I had hoped this would be the case,' he replied, bravely putting a hand over the one she had resting on his arm. 'You have done exceptionally well to battle through this. I had expected resistance from you from the very beginning, but I am pleased you did not. You have improved so much over such a short time.'

'Thank you,' she said softly.

He cleared his throat slightly. 'You are welcome,' he said, taking her hand from his arm and dropping his arms to his sides. 'Now, we should be getting on with our research. From recollection, this project means as much to you as it does to me.'

She nodded enthusiastically. 'Let's get to work!'

They collected the tea tray and refreshed it before heading down to the lab and setting up the microscope. Snape watched as she flitted about the room, collecting samples of the potion and brain cells and the journal for their recording. She had a small smile on her face as she went about her work, and he was glad to see it. The tension that had permeated the lab for the past couple of weeks had disappeared, and things were finally back to normal. He knew he had done the right thing by telling her about his past.

She set up the journal beside him and flashed him an excited grin. 'Everything ready to go here?' she asked.

Snape nodded and he set up a slide, using a small eyedropper tool to put a small amount of cells on it followed by a few drops of the potion. The two of them spent the remainder of the morning examining the slides and watching as the cells changed from a dull grey colour to a bright purple, the cells morphing from fractured circles until they were whole again. So far, things were looking very positive for them, and he could not stop the elation from showing on his face. Hermione touched his arm again, forcing him to look down at her.

'We're friends, aren't we, Severus?' she asked, looking up at him with wide, brown eyes.

He looked at her sweet, pretty face and knew he could not deny her. 'Yes, we are friends, Hermione,' he said softly.

'Good,' she said before going back to her work.

He smiled and shook his head. Hermione Granger was still an enigma.

* * *

To be continued.


	19. Chapter 19: Acceptance

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to lyn_f, for taking time out of her busy schedule to beta this chapter for me.

* * *

_Acceptance, by definition, is the act of accepting; a receiving what is offered, with approbation, satisfaction, or acquiescence; esp., favorable reception; approval; as, the __acceptance__ of a gift, office, doctrine, etc._

* * *

The potion had been completed for over three weeks, and the testing was going extremely well.

Hermione desperately wanted for their tests to be finished and the potion a confirmed success before she had to go back to the college in four days' time. They had performed numerous tests on the creature from the Forbidden Forest that Hagrid had given to them for their experiments, and every creature that they had modified the memories of a month before had successfully regained their memories and were returned to the forest healthy and whole.

Both she and Snape knew that a month was not an extremely long time for lost memories to be retrieved, but they had already factored that in when making the potion. It was all about quantities and body mass and calculating just how much a particular individual would need to be administered according to how long the memories had been gone for, and how heavy they were. That day they would be going to St. Mungo's to perform their final test on Gilderoy Lockhart after having received permission from the Ministry of Magic.

Despite the fact that Harry and Ron were both going to be there as the Ministry representatives, Hermione was more nervous than she had been on her first day at Hogwarts. She had been up since nearly five o'clock that morning and had barely slept the night before. She desperately hoped that their potion was a success. The sooner she found out, the sooner her own parents could receive the treatment and be returned to her. While she would never be able to forgive herself for what she did to them, Hermione knew there had been limited other options at the time, and she had only been a teenager, inexperienced and unable to trust their safety to anyone else.

She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece of the fireplace and realised that she would need to begin dressing. Harry and Ron were going to come by at half past eight that morning to collect her and escort her to St. Mungo's, and that was only twenty minutes away.

Once in her room, she selected a teal button-down shirt to wear with her cream-coloured pencil skirt. She pulled her hair back in a tidy chiffon and pulled on a pair of black robes to complete her attire. She knew without a doubt that Snape would be wearing his customary black, and she refused to look any less professional than he did while they were out in public. He would appreciate the effort she went to, even if he didn't say so.

She felt her face flush slightly at the thought of Snape. Since they had talked about his past the week before, their working and personal relationship had improved once more, and he had even allowed her to call him friend, much to her delight. It wasn't what she wanted, but she knew it would be unrealistic to expect more from the dour Potions master. He would likely always see her as a student, and while this saddened her somewhat, she tried every day not to dwell on it. After all, soon he would be back at Hogwarts, and she would be back at the college.

Their only contact would be to owl each another whenever they could – if he even desired to remain in contact with her after their work together was complete.

At exactly half past eight, there was a knock on her front door, alerting her to Harry and Ron's arrival. She rushed to answer it, opening the door and accepting tight hugs from both of her friends.

'Come in!' she exclaimed. 'Would you like anything to eat or drink before we go?'

She heard the rumble of Harry's stomach and smiled. 'It was Ron's turn to cook today,' he said with a sheepish smile. 'I could do with some toast and jam if that's okay, Hermione.'

'Me, too!' Ron added enthusiastically. 'I could help?'

Hermione and Harry both shook their heads. 'You can pour some juice for all of us,' she said, pointing him in the direction of the refrigerator. 'I'll put on the toast and the two of you relax.'

Ten minutes later they were sitting down and chewing on the toast, generously slathered in the lemon curd that Snape had made and given to Hermione for her own house.

'This stuff is great, Hermione!' Ron said around a mouthful of toast. 'Where'd you get it from?'

'Professor Snape made it, actually,' she replied, smirking when she saw both of the boys' jaws drop in response. 'Oh don't look at me like that. The man is a brilliant Potions master. He was bound to be good at other things as well. It just so happens that he is an amazingly creative cook as well. You have no idea how well-fed I've been for the past three months.'

'Oh, that reminds me,' Harry said after recovering. 'You look really great today Hermione.'

She blushed automatically at the compliment, looking down at her hands on top of the table. 'Oh, I just didn't want to look really shabby next to everyone while you're all in your work robes,' she murmured, embarrassed.

'You look great,' Ron assured her from the other side.

Hermione smiled at them both. She was really lucky to have such good friends. The three of them Apparated out of her flat together, reappearing in the designated Apparation point in the lobby of St. Mungo's. They went to the lift and caught it to the fourth floor, heading straight to Gilderoy Lockhart's private room at the end of the hall on the right. She knew they were heading the correct way because there was a line of Healers and a few apprentices loitering in the hall outside of the room.

She felt nervous with all of the eyes on her, even with Ron and Harry shooting them all quelling looks as they passed through. When she entered the room, she was relieved to see that Snape was already there, standing next to the bed and preparing the dose according to all of the information St. Mungo's had provided them on Lockhart earlier in the week. She moved over to stand with him, leaving Harry and Ron to stand near the doorway and keep the mob out.

'Did you have to bring your side-kicks along?' Snape muttered under his breath.

Hermione frowned at him. 'You know very well we need to have Ministry witnesses here to sign off on all of our findings, and Harry and Ron volunteered to their boss the moment they found out,' she whispered back. 'Besides, I am really glad they are here to support our work. They're trying to be good friends.'

Snape had the grace to look slightly chastened. 'Forgive me, I know they are your friends, and I will endeavour to be polite,' he said.

She smiled, warmth flowing through her. 'If this works, I want to go to my parents as soon as possible,' she said seriously, passing Snape a measuring flask. 'They might resent me for taking the decision to move away from them, but I want my parents to recognise me again.'

'Your parents will forgive you eventually, if they even harbour any anger at all,' he reassured her.

'Are you ready to do this?' she asked, pulling their recording journal towards her and taking up his black quill.

He nodded, and she stood back and watched as he drew a new syringe out of a packet and filled it with the dosage for the man in the bed before them. He was barely lucid and had obviously been dosed so that he wouldn't resist them when they came to give him their potion. Hermione knew that the most effective way to give him the potion would be to inject it straight into his veins, but she still didn't like it. She had hated needles her entire life and would sooner pull her own teeth out than have someone jab her with one.

Snape flicked the syringe to get rid of any bubbles and wiped an alcohol swab over the top of Lockhart's hand before inserting the needle and slowly pushed down until the entirety of the potion was in his system. He put a plastic adhesive strip over the puncture wound and disposed of the syringe in the sharps bin in the corner. Hermione breathed out in relief, noting that Lockhart's colouring had remained the same, as had his temperature and blood pressure.

'And now we wait, right?' Ron piped up from the doorway.

'Yes, Mr Weasley, we do,' Snape replied.

The room was stifling, and Hermione sat beside Snape on the far side of the room from the patient as the Healer in charge of Lockhart's care bustled about the bed making sure everything was still the same as it was before Snape's arrival. Healer Chadwick didn't spend any more time in the room than he had to, and Hermione had a feeling that it had everything to do with her brooding companion.

Ron and Harry had gone upstairs to the tearoom to get refreshments for all of them, leaving her, for the time being, alone with Snape.

'I'm glad everyone outside has cleared off for a while,' he murmured quietly. 'Nosy bloody busybodies.'

'You could be a little more forgiving, you know,' she scolded lightly. 'They're just curious and excited – perhaps even more so than we are. Besides, if I ever want to get an apprenticeship here, I'm going to need to have a good record, so quit intimidating everyone or they won't hire me for fear of seeing you.'

Snape looked surprised at her for a moment. 'You plan to still see me after this project has come to an end?' he asked.

'Well, I had hoped that this wouldn't be the last time we collaborated,' she said shyly, look at her hands that were clasped in her lap. 'I'll be a Healer one day, and with two fresh perspectives, just think of how many other medical potions breakthroughs we could have.'

He was silent for a moment before speaking up. 'I would like that too,' he said quietly. 'To continue working together, that is.'

Hermione smiled, looking up at his face. She finally had one of the things that she had been craving from him – his acceptance. It meant a lot to her, and she wasn't going to let go of it easily. She would work hard, finish her studies, make a name for herself in the Mediwizarding community, and continuing working with Snape. Maybe one day, he would see her as his equal, and when that day comes, she would be the happiest woman on the planet, she thought. Even though he was not used to people touching him, she reached over anyway and gave his hand an excited squeeze. What surprised her most was when he squeezed back.

She looked into his dark eyes, and for a moment she saw something there that she had not seen before when looking at him. She was opening her mouth to say something, when Harry and Ron's return interrupted, and Snape immediately withdrew his hand and stood from his chair. Hermione sighed, the moment lost. She was unsure if she'd ever get a chance to relive that again.

'Want a drink, Hermione?' Harry offered.

She accepted a lemonade and sipped at the bubbly beverage slowly, all of them sitting back to wait for Lockhart to awaken from his drug-induced sleep. The minutes ticked by slowly, and more than once, Hermione wanted to go to sleep, but forced herself to stay as alert as possible. At three that afternoon, they all heard a loud yawn and murmuring and looked over at the patient to see that he was finally stirring from slumber.

Healer Chadwick entered the room and gave him a quick physical examination, noting no changes there, and after a few minutes, Lockhart was sitting up in bed, frowning in confusion and looking from person-to-person, trying to figure out where he was.

'Where am I?' Lockhart asked, looking straight at Hermione.

'You are in the Spell Damage ward in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries,' Snape said, directing the blond man's focus to him. 'Do you know who you are?'

'Of course I know who I am,' the man retorted smarmily. 'If _you_ knew who I was, you wouldn't be… my god, Snape! What the devil are you doing here?'

'I didn't ask you who I was,' Snape snapped irritably. 'I will ask you once more, sir. What is your name?'

'Right old boy, no need to get touchy. Gilderoy Lockhart is my name, and daring-do is my game,' he said, winking at Hermione. 'And who might this charming young lady be?'

'Hermione Granger,' she replied stiffly. 'I was your student at Hogwarts, if you recall, sir.'

'That brainy little swot? Well, you certainly have grown up.'

Hermione bristled, even as Harry and Ron chuckled behind her, and she turned to see that even Snape was smirking at her. 'What is the last thing that you remember, Mr Lockhart?' she asked curtly.

'I remember two young boys… something about a monster, and being led down a god-awful, dirty tunnel at wand-point. Did something happen?' he replied.

'You attempted to cast a memory charm on one of the boys with a faulty wand, which backfired on you and caused your amnesia,' she answered. 'In fact, Harry and Ron are here with us now.'

Ron and Harry stepped out from behind her, and she could tell that Lockhart was feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

'Misters Potter and Weasley, would you both be so kind as to step over here and sign the forms for the Ministry over here?' Snape asked, intervening. 'Lockhart will be punished through official channels.'

Lockhart looked genuinely scared by Snape's tone of voice, but Hermione could tell he knew there would be no escape from justice when he was declared sane. She wished she could feel sorry for him, but he had gotten away with messing with people's minds for too long. Perhaps their potion could be used to restore the memories to his victims?

'I think we can consider this potion a success,' Snape told her with a small smile.

She beamed back at him, happier than she had been in a long time.

* * *

To be continued.


	20. Chapter 20: Academic

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

Many thanks to lyn_f for all of her hard work.

* * *

_Academic, by definition, is associated with academia or an academy; "the academic curriculum"; "academic gowns"._

* * *

Snape stared across the classroom, barely able to believe that he was back at Hogwarts after three blissfully student-free months.

This batch of dunderheads seemed even dimmer than the last, if that were even truly possible. It had been five days since he and Hermione had tested the potion on Gilderoy Lockhart. They were simply waiting now for the Ministry paperwork to go through before Hermione would go to Australia and give the potion to her parents and retrieve their memories. He wondered what she was doing that very moment while he was sitting through his first-year Slytherin-Gryffindor Potions class for the term.

Most likely, she was doing exactly what she had always done – studying, reading and making the most of her education. Luckily for her, she probably didn't have to put up with the likes of Neville Longbottom in any of her advanced Potions classes. He rather imagined that she wouldn't really even need to attend any more of them at this stage – she was already well and truly advanced beyond tertiary level potion-making after her work with him over the summer. The potion was already going to be credited in both of their names. Perhaps he would owl her instructors and convince them to give her extra credit and Honours for it.

He shook his head and refocussed on the task at hand – ensuring that none of his students blew up the classroom in their first lesson. At the start of the class, he had swept into the room and delivered his usual first-year speech as flawlessly as ever. He thought Hermione would have been proud of how many students he had trembling with fear already. Or perhaps not – she had always been a champion of those who were less talented in his class than others.

He stood from his desk and began to make his way around the classroom, checking on the stage students had reached in their Babbling Beverage potions.

'Miss Parkinson, you are slicing that bitterroot much too thickly,' he snapped, pulling the root away from the girl and snatching up her discarded knife to demonstrate. 'If you do not slice it correctly, the consistency of the potion will not be consistent.'

The younger Parkinson girl nodded, but not without sniffing haughtily at him. She was the spitting image of her older sister, Pansy, with every bit as much attitude as well. He would have to keep an eye on Peony Parkinson and make sure she didn't cause too much trouble while at Hogwarts. He moved on from that bench and wandered over to the Gryffindor side, and he was surprised that none of the students appeared to be struggling.

He returned to his desk, and towards the end of the lesson, he told all of them to bring a sample of their potions to the front and to clean their cauldrons and benches afterwards. Once the lesson was over and the classroom had been cleared out, Snape sat at his desk and examined the potions in the vials before him. He stored them all in a rack and took them to the storeroom to mark later.

When he went up to lunch a while later, he took his seat beside Minerva at the High Table and looked at the food before him. He wasn't even hungry.

'Why the long face?' Minerva asked from beside him.

'It's nothing, Minerva,' he answered. 'I just have a lot on my mind.'

'How is that potion of yours progressing at the Ministry?' she asked curiously, spooning some chicken soup into her mouth.

'It should be approved in roughly a week or two,' Snape answered. 'Hermione will surely be anxious with anticipation by this point. Her parents' memory recovery hangs in the balance.'

'So it's Hermione now, is it?' Minerva commented with a satisfied, cat-like smile. 'I didn't realise the two of you were on such familiar terms. From what I understood, she was simply your apprentice over the summer.'

'Hermione expressed an interest in becoming… friends,' he said stiffly. He wished Minerva would stop prying. 'I don't remember when my holidays became fodder for the gossip mill.'

Minerva chuckled dryly. 'Well when you decide to create breakthroughs in the medical field, next time you might try testing it on a less public figure than Gilderoy Lockhart,' she said tartly. 'Associating with Hermione Granger is going to put you directly in the eye of the public. You will have to be prepared for that, Severus.'

'I've had first-hand experience with said phenomenon already,' he grumbled. 'I have also seen a lot more of Messrs Potter and Weasley than I necessarily want to.'

'You have feelings for her,' Minerva stated with a smirk.

'Is it that obvious?' he replied, staring at the bowl of soup in front of him.

'You, Severus Snape, have never been able to pull the wool over my eyes,' she replied, as she continued to eat her soup.

After lunch was finished, Snape returned to his classroom to prepare for his afternoon class. He was relieved that it was at least his sixth-year Potions class instead of any of the lower year levels. The rest of his day continued at a rather slow pace. The class spent the entire time writing an essay on the Deflating Draught, so by the end of the day, he had two lots of student work to mark by the time he taught his first and sixth years next.

Snape retired to his office to get a start on his marking before dinner, and he sat behind his desk with a pot of red ink and his favourite black quill in his hand.

He pulled forward the stack of essays before him and dipped his quill into the ink, preparing to begin. He read the same paragraph nearly ten times before he sighed and gave it up as a lost cause, replacing the cap of his inkwell. He had been unable to stop thinking about Hermione ever since Minerva had mentioned her at lunch. He had tried to prevent himself from such frivolous thoughts as there was nothing to be done – she was busy with her studies, and he was in a draughty castle in the Scottish highlands living in a school. What did he have that he could offer her?

He rubbed his hand over his weary eyes and sighed. He might not be able to see her on a daily basis any more, but he could still write to her. If that was all that he could do, then he would do it, despite the harm it would do to his already fragile heart. Severus Snape was in love with Hermione Granger, and although it was folly, he dreamed that one-day she might come to see him as a man rather than her former professor.

Picking up his quill once more, he pulled a fresh piece of parchment and a bottle of royal blue ink from his desk drawer and began to write a letter.

Hermione looked up from the heavy tome before her when she heard a loud tapping noise on the glass of her study window.

There was a large horned owl perched on the ledge outside, repeatedly tapping on the glass impatiently as it waited for her to open the window and respond. She got up quickly and unlocked the window, sliding it up and allowing the owl to swoop inside and land gracefully atop a pile of her books. Attached to its ankle was a letter addressed to her in an envelope sealed with a somewhat familiar black wax. It was, however, the neat, spiky writing that was the most familiar to her.

She took the letter and cracked the seal, pulling out the letter contained within. The excitement at receiving a missive from Snape almost made her giddy. She unfolded it, surprised that the owl was still waiting atop her books. Before she read the letter, she summoned a bag of owl treats from the kitchen and pulled a couple of them, holding them out for the owl to nibble on while it was waiting.

* * *

_Hermione, _

_It was the first day of classes today, and needless to say there are already some students in my first-year class that I am going to have to keep my eye out for. You'll be surprised to know, however, that the student in question is a Slytherin – Peony Parkinson to be exact. She is every bit as snide and pompous as the rest of her family. _

_I am still awaiting the results from the Ministry. I hope for your sake that they do not waste our time and that they hurry the process along as quickly as possible. Your parents will be restored soon. I apologise that we were not able to meet up again before I left for Hogwarts. Perhaps on the next Hogsmeade weekend, we could meet in Hogsmeade and you can tell me all about college? _

_Regards, _

_Severus_

_P.S. Be nice to my owl. His name is Jericho._

* * *

Hermione smiled. Trust Snape to complain about his students via pen and paper. She summoned a clean sheet of parchment to her so that she could reply straight away and take advantage of the owl that was still perched atop her textbooks. She picked up her quill and dipped it into the ink, pausing over the parchment. She wasn't sure what to write. She knew that it had only been a few days, but she missed seeing him. She had spent so much time seeing him nearly every day over the summer that to go back to not seeing him at all left something of a gap in her life – even with how busy she was with classes.

The problem was that everything she was studying at college seemed so easy after all she had learned while assisting Snape.

She sighed, writing 'Severus' at the top of the parchment. She put down the quill and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. Hermione looked up at the owl and reached out a hand to stroke his head. The bird hooted and began to nibble at her fingers gently. Well, at least it was a nice bird.

'What would your master like best to hear from me?' she asked, feeling a little ridiculous for asking an owl what to write to Snape.

She had a feeling that she was going to be sitting there for quite a while if she waited around for Jericho to answer her. She looked back down at the parchment and sighed heavily once more. Her feelings for Snape had somehow managed to only grow in his absence. Just thinking about him made her chest feel tight and her breathing shallow. She desperately wished that she could see him again, and a lot sooner than the Hogsmeade weekend, which was still a whole month away.

Perhaps she could convince him to go with her when she went to give her parents the memory retrieval potion?

Smiling, she finally out pen to paper and began writing furiously. She signed it with a flourish and finally tucked the completed letter into an envelope. She summoned a candle and lit it, melting a little of her dark green wax into the back of it before pressing her seal to it and writing Snape's address and details on the front. She tied it to Jericho's leg and gave the bird another pat, gently scratching it at the back of its head.

'Take that safe to your master, okay?' she said with a smile. 'And take good care of him too.'

She walked the owl over to the window on her arm, and she let it push off her and take off into the night sky. Hermione returned to her study desk and sat back down, pulling her textbooks back to her. She tried to resume her essay where she had left off again but found it nearly impossible to concentrate. Snape's letter had come at an inopportune time. Now, she couldn't get him off her mind. One day soon, Snape was going to figure out that she had feelings for him and would probably stop talking to her.

She closed her eyes, the pain of that possibility hurting more than she could say. The idea of never seeing him again was more than she could bear. Shaking her head, she forced herself not to dwell on it any longer. Those kinds of thoughts would only led to a throbbing headache.

She picked up her quill and began working on her essay once more.

* * *

To be continued.


End file.
